


Letters to the Void

by pastel_didactic



Series: Letters [2]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akechi Goro Lives, Akechi decides the truth, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rivals to Lovers, death defying stunts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2020-10-25 04:10:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20717873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastel_didactic/pseuds/pastel_didactic
Summary: He’s seen Akira with this journal. He’s written in its pages at odd times, sometimes even in Palaces. Goro had no idea what he had written, but he’d be a liar if he said curiosity hadn’t struck him more than once.He flipped through the first few pages before looking up at Sojiro, “I’m not so sure Akira would be okay with me reading this.”“Read it, kid.”Hesitantly turning back to the beginning, Goro started reading.





	1. Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> WHOA THIS IS SUPER LATE I'M SO SORRY GUYS! I got caught up in school, then Polaris hit me like a truck and I can't stop writing that, and jeeze. 
> 
> The continuation for Letters from Home is finally here! This thing is a BEAST. It's currently 24 pages long, and there are still parts that I'm adding. Given that it's so long, I've decided to break it up into chapters. Since most of this story is written, I'm going to be posting them (hopefully) every day until the story is complete. 
> 
> WARNING: this fic has graphic depictions of violence and gunshot wounds, as well as emotional and mental abuse of a teenager. If any of that is a trigger or is something that makes you uncomfortable please consider maybe skipping over this fic. I love you all, and I'd love for you to stay and tell me what you think, but your emotional and mental health is important! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this first chapter! 
> 
> Until next time!

In the beginning, all there was in that dark recording room, with him on the stage and the strange boy in the chair a few rows ahead of him, was casual interest. He’d waited around the corner, earlier in the hallway, eavesdropping on the discussion a group of four friends seemed to be having about Dome Town. As harmless as the conversation had begun, Akechi Goro quickly found an opportunity to act. There were four voices to what had turned out to be three humans and a cat. How fascinating, Goro had thought at first. A cat that could, ostensibly, speak. To quote Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, when one eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. 

Akechi found himself entranced exceedingly quickly, and yes, perhaps shamefully so, by the strange boy with fluffy hair and glasses nearly too large for his face. He was clearly up to something, what with the talking cat. His views on current events, however, were quite stimulating. Goro found the boy’s response to his questions about the Phantom Thieves very intriguing. He was just plain enough, yet just interesting enough, to perhaps be part of the elusive Phantom Thieves.    
  
_ They do more than the cops. _

How fascinating. 

Perhaps Goro initially made the deal to keep in contact with the boy because he was fatalistic. Conditions with Shido weren’t getting any better, and Goro felt more like a glorified hitman than anything else. Not that he ever had any illusions about his standing with his father. He was simply a tool, a means to be used, and perhaps that was just because Shido had no idea he  _ was _ Goro’s father. Dancing with this raven devil in the pale moonlight of Shibuya seemed rather poetic, no? Maybe he’d learn something about the Phantom Thieves, given that this boy seemed to be in the thick of whatever they were doing. Goro wondered how close he could get to this boy and his friends before everything fell to pieces. He learned that the boy’s name was Kurusu Akira, and he learned his voice, when not enhanced by a microphone, ran as quiet and richly as it did deep.

Perhaps he was setting himself up for that special brand of failure. 

There was absolutely no way Akira wasn’t involved with the Phantom Thieves. Goro had no idea exactly how the Phantom Thieves functioned, but the one fact he knew for certain, was how they were getting into these places. According to Isshiki Wakaba’s research, the Metaverse was a plane of existence that could be entered if one had a key. In Goro’s case, his key was an app on his phone. There was some standing to the possibility the Thieves were entering the Metaverse the same way. Initially, Goro wanted to know how they’d done their work without killing anyone. The death of Isshiki Wakaba held fast to Goro’s heart, weighing him more than any of the others who followed her in death. The others were nameless to him, each one instead a swath of red on his already dripping ledger. He’d forgotten how many there had been by this point, two years’ worth of putting bullets into shadows clouding and blurring into one continuous fog. 

But this will all be worth it one day. 

Someday, and hopefully soon, all of this will have been worth it. 

As a detective in training, Goro had learned fairly quickly the benefit of keeping a notebook. That way no evidence ever went astray, and forgotten points of interest could be remembered with a quick turn of a page. Keeping a record of his findings about the Phantom Thieves would be useful, though he’d have to take care not to write down anything that would incriminate himself if this journal ever fell into the wrong hands. Still, the benefits outweigh the risks, and there in the studio, Goro opened his notebook to an empty page and filled in a quick entry between the lines. 

_ June 9th,  _

_ I've met a rather interesting boy today named Akira. While I believe he and his cohort have something to do with the Phantom Thieves, I mainly just want to talk to him. I believe his insight is a unique one, and I think I stand to learn a lot from him. All things aside, this is a companionship that appears wholly beneficial.  _

Goro's entries were always short, even in his work, so as to save paper. He closed his notebook and put it away, content to simply place himself within Akira’s orbit, at least for now.

As June progressed and gave way to July, Goro saw Akira a precious handful of times. Goro even stopped cycling to school as often so as to happen upon Akira on their only commonly shared platform during their commutes. Goro found engaging with Akira to be as entertaining as it was educational. The other boy didn’t seem to be as interested in the Phantom Thieves as everyone else, however he always defended them in debate. Goro noticed the boy had a nervous tick- when he was unsure how to answer or just anxious in general, he reached up to twist his bangs between his fingers. Somehow, Goro found that to be an endearing quality. He’s been counting how often he sees Akira do that. So far, he’s done it seven times in Goro’s presence, and he isn’t sure whether that metric is good or bad. 

Today, Goro found himself waiting by the passageway between platforms at Shibuya Station, where he firmly believes the Phantom Thieves to be meeting as a hideout. To have such a hideout in plain sight was adventurous, to say the least. If they were entering the Metaverse from here, any passerby caught close enough would wind up there as well. That was dangerous, given that any Plain Jane citizen likely didn’t have the capacity to summon a Persona. Shujin Academy had dismissed about an hour ago, the group should be making its way here any minute now. Through the throng of civilians on their commutes, Akechi caught sight of blonde pigtails and bright, bottle-blond spikes. Ann and Ryuji had already arrived. Ann was leaning against the railing, reading a fashion magazine, and Ryuji was typing away at his phone. The duo seemed entirely oblivious to Goro’s presence, which was good. Turning and looking around for any of the others, Goro took noticed in a sign posted by the small bakery by the terminal. 

_ Now serving crepes! _

As if driven by instinct, Goro wandered off towards the shop, which really was just a hole in the wall with a glass case and a few ovens. The small shop had primary placement, though, right next to the Ginza Line, which was one of the busiest lines in the mornings. Goro had sampled many of the baked goods the shop sold, and wrote a good review on his blog. The shop was run by two sisters who opened their shop five years ago, and they seemed to really enjoy their work. Their passion came out in their food, and they had garnered a reputation for service goods that were both delicious and filling. As Goro milled over the crepe options, entirely engrossed, he didn’t notice someone behind him until he had backed right into them. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t see where I was--” Goro began, turning to properly apologize, when he was met with an amused expression on a familiar face. Akira was right behind him, so close that when Goro turned, barely a foot of space remained between their faces. “Ah, it’s you!” 

Akira chuckled, the deep noise steamrolling through Goro’s senses as he struggled with the embarrassment of having been snuck up on so easily, “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was about to tap your shoulder, but…” 

Well, it seemed that Goro’s perception needed a little bit of work. 

Looking away with a flushed expression, Goro took a step back away from the raven, “Be that as it may, I’m still sorry I bumped into you, Kurusu.” Akira frowned at him, but said nothing more about the topic. Instead, he looked at the glass case, eyeing the store’s wares. “Deciding on a pastry?” Goro nodded, regaining his composure just enough to formulate a proper answer, “Yes, I saw a sign saying they have begun selling crepes, and I was curious.” Akira nodded once again, and they both studied the menu in silence. 

Despite the initial faux pas, Goro found himself calming rather quickly and the two fell into this sort of comfortable, companionable silence. This was happening more frequently, as he met with Akira in Leblanc or on the platform between stops. With increasing difficulty, Goro found himself scrambling to keep hold on his facade. In Akira’s presence, he felt as though he could just take one massive sigh and release all the stress, worries, and expectations from his shoulders and just  _ be _ Akechi Goro. 

Not that Goro felt he deserved any kind of emotional respite. Goro never planned on anything after all of this was over, and Shido’s reputation was ruined. He’d always assumed he’d be killed very shortly thereafter, so he never let himself think about his own future. Every step he took, from choosing his school to his profession, was all in the service of this idea that one day he’d make his father pay. In a more depressing sense, these stolen moments with his rival gave him an outlet from all of that. Being around Akira brought Goro some modicum of peace, a welcome respite in what is potentially the last few months of his life. A place to drop his anger and just breathe. Akira’s entire being seemed bent on making people as calm as possible when he was around them. Goro could see that in the way he held his shoulders, curled in and unassuming. Akira folds in on himself to take as little space as possible, which is difficult enough with his tall frame. 

Goro turned to look at the slightly shorter male, and found that Akira was looking back at him. Akira measured him with his fathomless gray eyes, and Goro found himself quite suddenly helpless. He just couldn’t look away from that stare, as curious as it was calculating. Goro felt that Akira’s eyes were just generally unfair. He felt as though the secrets of the entire universe were locked away in the depths of those eyes, and even he hated how sappy that sounded. But it was true, Akira had this way about him, where he had the appearance of a 17 year old high school student, but his eyes betrayed a hundred years worth of understanding. He felt as though the Marianas Trench was bereft but a few leagues scraped from its lowest layer and placed quite carefully into one boy’s eyes. Goro both adored the shade of his eyes, and hated how that made him feel. 

Akira stared at him for just a moment, before turning back to the shop and approaching the register. “Excuse me, I’m ready to order,” he said softly, garnering the attention of one of the sisters. “I’d like a dark chocolate and raspberry crepe, and a banana chocolate crepe, please.” Akira paid for the order while Goro watched, curiously, in silence. What could Akira possibly want with  _ two _ crepes? When Akira was handed his crepes, he turned to Goro and held out the banana chocolate one for him to take. 

“Is that for me?” 

“Yeah. Do you not like bananas? You can have the raspberry one, if you like that better.”

Akira had bought him one? “You didn’t have to do that.” 

“I know,” Akira replied, a small but present smirk on his face, “It didn’t seem like you were going to decide. Plus, I wanted to.” 

Goro reached out carefully and took the crepe, almost afraid Akira would swipe his hand away and claim he was joking. “Thank you, Kurusu.” 

“Just call me Akira.” 

The implications of that did not miss Goro, and a shudder traveled down his spine as klaxons blared in his head. Decidedly ignoring them, Goro gave Akira a genuine smile, as it seemed he’d forgotten how to do his Made-For-TV grin at this point, “Very well, Akira. You may call me Goro, then, if you wish.” Akira was quiet for a moment, seemingly contemplating something, before gesturing to the crepe. “Well? Are you going to try it? I want to hear your opinion.” Goro started, and looked down at his crepe. Oh, yes. He’d almost forgotten he wanted this crepe to actually eat one, instead of just stand around with one in his hand. Quickly calculating how to best get a full force of the flavor, Goro found a bite he could take that had all the toppings and he took a bite after a small scuffle with the pancake. 

The crepe’s custard was creamy and full of flavor. The banana was fresh, and the chocolate rich. Delicious, really. He couldn’t say he’d had a better one, though maybe that was just because Akira had bought the crepe for him. Goro smiled as he finished his bite, “It’s very good! You should try yours!” Akira took a bite of his own and looked down at it, puzzled. 

“How is this so good?” 

Something about the way Akira said that made him laugh, “See?” Akira smiled at him, a small rarity that spread across his face as quickly as it had left, leaving Goro wondering exactly what would have to happen to make the younger man grin. “I have to go now. I’ll see you later, Goro,” Akira softly bid him goodbye, and continued on his way. Goro himself turned to face the throng of people filtering out from the recently arrived train, and headed for the stairs. Goro felt far more at peace, and even happy, a warm feeling that spread from his heart in waves across his body. Akira had called him by name, and he was entirely unprepared for how his name had sounded in that rich voice. A pleasant shudder crawled down his spine as he recalled the way Akira’s tongue carefully crafted his name and spoke it like a hymn. 

The realization hit Goro mid-bite of his delicious crepe. Turning on his heel, he watched as Akira met with Makoto, Yusuke, Ann, and Ryuji. Crimson eyes followed them as Akira said something and they headed off to the train platform together. Did that... just happen? For the entire duration of his time in Akira's presence, he'd forgotten entirely why he was there, and Akira even purchased him a crepe. His favorite flavor, in fact. How did Akira know? More to the point, why had he done such a thing? 

Why did Goro feel so giddy? 

With one hand, Goro rifled through his pocket and retrieved his journal, opening to an occupied page. The margin was clear, which was serviceable enough in his haste. Using the wall to aid his occupied hand in holding up the journal, his free hand dove into his other jacket pocket for his pen. Between notes about a robbery and a murder, Goro scribbled his entry in the margin so quickly his usually fine print looked to be fashioned by a six year old.

_ July 15, _

_ Oh no. _


	2. The Bloody Cost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO I really felt kinda. Torn. When I wrote this, because the fandom in regards to Akechi is very, very much divided about his degree of culpability. 
> 
> When writing this chapter, I wanted to take a look at Goro's perception of what he's done, because I often wonder how that boy sleeps at night. I examined his dilemma with a more logical lens, instead of falling in the "oh he's deffo murdered people? well he's evil then" camp, I looked at it from his age at the time, and from his history and abusive background which gave rise to this "grand plan" Atlus constructed for him. Which we should all know by now is a horribly pieced together cop-out. I wanted to do something that I don't think I've ever seen done before with his mental state, and actually examine his thought process between Point A (given his orders), and Point B (November 20th). 
> 
> I in no way want to make anyone angry because of this chapter. Please view this chapter within the context of my Letters lore, and push the canon reasoning Atlus gave us aside for this. 
> 
> Until next time!

Now that he was aware that he harbored some level of affection for Akira, their meetings made him jittery. Not necessarily a bad kind of jittery, but now every time he saw the raven, Goro was hyper aware of everything they said and did together. How their fingers brushed when Akira passed him a fresh coffee. The eyes he felt on him while he worked on his casework at the cafe. With each passing moment, his brain wailed at his heart, “_ This is dangerous! This is a bad idea! He’s a Phantom Thief! You’re the one they’re after! He’d never trust you if he found out who you really are- you’re wasting your time! _” 

He never could get his heart to listen once the damned organ had resolved on something.

Days passed into weeks, which passed into a month since his revelation. Some days, Goro felt as though he were sinking into all that was Akira. As if he were a stone, and Akira was the yielding ocean, slowing his fall and lulling him to peace as he sank further and further towards his own demise. Perhaps that was closer to the truth than any statement had the right to be, because little more than a month later, he stood at the front of Shido’s office, right in front of his desk, as he gave him his report on the Phantom Thieves. 

Coming into this office always felt like an ordeal. First, you had to enter the diet building, have appropriate papers for access, and take an unnecessary amount of stairs since only diet men had the elevator keycards. Shido’s office was at the end of a hall that always seemed deafeningly silent. Even walking down the plain hall, the ugly gray carpet soaking up all the sound from one’s footsteps, bouncing the remaining dull noise off of the nondescript, off-white walls. Goro had always likened this hallway to a green mile, and never more so than he did today. 

For today, Shido said two words that shattered Goro’s entire being, all without looking up from the documents strewn across his desk: 

“Kill him.” 

Goro was stunned, even though he should have known this was coming. “Shido-san, surely-”   
  
“I don’t care how you do it, but I would prefer for him to be arrested as the leader of the Phantom Thieves first. Shift all suspicion away from what you’re doing. Plus, that’ll give you a new case to solve, right? More reputation for you. Wait until the construction of Sae’s palace is complete, reveal yourself to them, join their ranks. Then, when the opportunity presents itself, eliminate the leader.” 

Goro couldn’t argue. If he argued, if he came back with a sassy reply even once, he knew what would happen. Shido would tell him he was disposable, that Goro was aware of what would happen if he disobeyed. Goro _ fucking hated _ this man, but he had to put up with it- all apart of the plan. Goro left with his orders, feeling heavy with dread. He went home on auto-pilot as his brain registered the fact that he was now tasked with the deed of killing Kurusu Akira. On the train home, he fidgeted with his black leather gloves. So, now he was having cold feet? He’d killed dozens already. What was one more foolhardy boy? Why did he choose now to start having a conscience? Surely he didn’t deserve to have such feelings. He’d developed feelings for Akira, and now he was paying the price. Goro’s initial decision to follow the Phantom Thieves and learn from them had come back to pay its due, and it felt like a slap in the face. 

The revelation was nearly laughable. He’d done so much bad, so many things that earned him a special place in whatever came to constitute as hell. Yet this was what made him stop and think about what he was doing? What was one life to him, when he has claimed so many? Was it really so different, because that life was Akira’s? He’d spent so much time getting close to the other boy, and his own personal feelings aside, anyone on the outside looking in at them would very easily call them friends. Goro’s plan had worked, a little too well. 

What was the value of a life to a killer? 

What was it that gave his targets meaning? Each one of them had families, had friends. They each had bills and obligations, hobbies and favorite foods. Isshiki Wakaba had a daughter who was orphaned by his actions, just the same as him. He had yet to meet the young woman, but he knew she was around the same age as he was when he’d taken up this lifestyle. Goro had never particularly considered himself a child. By society’s standards, yes, he was still in his minor. Though he’d taken his first life at 14, and from then on he’d never considered himself a youth. The words just didn’t match who he had become. He’d done unspeakable things, all in the name of revenge. Some would call that petty. Goro called that deserved. He’s making his ledger sopping red with the blood of innocent people, only to turn to his father and tell him the creature he created was also his only heir. It was poetic, in a morbid sense. A Greek tragedy. But, for all that he had this great plan in mind, Goro had lost his sense of youth. He never got to be a child, because he was never allowed to be a child. 

No one ever really talks about what happens to orphans in Japan. It’s understood that they go to foster care and hopefully adopted, but that’s not always the case. Goro, for instance, moved from foster home to foster home. Somehow, each one of his caretakers came to believe he was responsible for his mother’s suicide. If he wasn’t kicked back to the orphanage, he was routinely abused by his new guardians. There was violence, there was neglect, and all Akechi could do was dream of a future where he found the person responsible for his misfortune and the loss of his mother, and make him suffer. 

Goro firmly believed he would stop at nothing to achieve that goal, until today. 

In all honesty, Goro had never actually _ physically _killed anyone. He drove people insane, or just shut down their brains, and they did something that killed themselves. The deaths were still his to shoulder, however. He was responsible for putting those people in danger, and his actions resulted in their deaths, therefore he is culpable. That was something he’d tell himself when he had trouble sleeping: still his fault, but he’s never personally taken life. But Akira? One cannot go into the Metaverse and find the shadow of someone who has a Persona. He would have to physically murder Kurusu Akira. Goro swallowed thickly as he moved his heavy feet out of the train station and down the street towards his apartment. 

Akechi Goro was capable of many things, but he wasn’t sure killing the man he loved was one of them.

Once Goro was home, he closed his apartment door and sat the keys on his kitchen counter. His apartment was spacious for one man living alone, the front door opening to a shared kitchen and living room space, with the kitchen cordoned off by an L-shaped counter. To the right of the living room and left at the end of the counter was a small hall that led to the full bathroom and the bedroom, with a closet between them. The apartment was paid for by Shido, and Goro was sure if he investigated where exactly the money was coming from, he’d find plenty of dirty bills and shady accounts. Shido paid for everything, as “compensation for his skills.” As if he could be bought so easily by the promise of a nice apartment and school tuition. Still, he let Shido put up the money, so wasn’t he bought well and just the same? 

Sitting down on his couch, Goro had the desperate urge to work on something that wasn’t also thinking about Akira, so he pulled out his briefcase and began searching for a file to work on until he was more emotionally stable. Pulling out a file about a robbery turned homicide, Goro sat his silver briefcase to the side, pulled the contents from the manilla folder, and spread them across the coffee table. Locating his journal as well, Goro blindly opened to the page with his notes regarding the case. One of the photos caught his eye, laying almost smack in the middle of his table. Staring vacantly at the camera was a young man, shot through the head at point blank range. His eyes were still open, in shock, but there was no light to be found within them. Dull, lifeless, pupils blown wide as the brain had ceased filtering and registering the light. The boy’s face was slack, jaw open slightly. Goro became aware of himself just enough to notice that he was hyperventilating, and suddenly extremely nauseous. Tearing his eyes away from the photo, Goro blinked at his notebook. He remembered this page. He’d written in the margin very recently. 

_ July 15th, _   
  
_Oh no._

  
  
Goro got up and ran into the bathroom just quickly enough to grab the toilet by the seat and hurl his entire lunch into the bowl. 

Days had passed before Goro could walk back into Leblanc. When he did, Akira was behind the counter, calm and collected. He had no idea what Goro had been told just a few days ago. He didn’t know the plan on his life that Goro would have to concoct if he wanted his father to face justice for himself and his mother. The brunet sat down at what he had dubbed as “his spot.” Akira looked up at him and smiled softly, reaching for a clean cup. Soon, he was given a fresh cup of coffee, and Goro didn’t even have to taste the brew to know Akira had made the cup exactly how he preferred. Goro tried not to wince. He couldn’t do this. He had to come up with a backup plan. There _ had _ to be a way that didn’t end with Akira sporting a new hole to breathe from, and Goro’s mind began churning out possibilities. 

They remained in silence, Akira busying himself with curry, Goro occupying himself with his thoughts. Akira was an intelligent young man… right? If Goro just opened his mouth and said, “My father wants me to kill you, and I feel like I have to do it because of my justice, despite every iota of my being telling me not to,” what would he think? It’s highly unlikely Akira would believe him, for sure. If he dropped little hints about the plot, would Akira pick up on them? If he warned him, without telling him outright? Perhaps… he’d already begun setting the groundwork for that. With their initial meeting at the TV station, it was likely Akira knew Goro was aware Morgana could speak. The cat himself definitely wasn’t too aware of it, or at least not worried about it, because he chatted with Akira throughout several of their interactions together. Maybe if he kept laying these little breadcrumbs for Akira, the raven would pick up on the message between the lines.

Who was he kidding? 

He could hope for the best, he could try, but at the end of the day, he will have to kill Kurusu Akira, whether he likes it or not. Shido always got what he wanted, whether he used one resource to get it or another, Shido’s wishes were always fulfilled. It was hopeless.

Descending into melancholy, Goro sipped at his coffee and tilted his head to watch outside the door. He could feel those fathomless eyes on him from the other end of the counter, and eventually he felt Akira’s presence encroaching on him. Turning his head back to Akira, he realized the other man had gotten closer, now standing directly in front of him. 

“Would you like to play chess?” 

Chess? Boss had a chessboard here? All Goro had seen were crossword books and newspapers, apart from the magazines in front of him at the counter. He needed to tell Akira no. He needed to distance himself from this boy whose life he may have to take, for his own sanity. He needed to just say no. Instead, what came out of his traitorous mouth was, “If you have a board here, I wouldn’t mind a game or two.” 

Goro was masochistic. 

Akira set up the board at an empty booth, and Goro observed him place the pieces in their proper squares. Sitting down in front of the white pieces, a heavy feeling began sinking into his stomach. Even in spite of all the bad news and the now limited time he’d have in Akira’s presence, Goro still felt his anxiety washing away just for being in his presence. He _ hated _ that Akira had that effect on him. He should be wary of Goro, or at least reluctant to establish a friendship. Instead, Akira made him feel _ safe _ , which was never a feeling Akechi thought he ever had the right to feel. After a few games, in which Goro won each time, he felt much better than he had when he’d first arrived. Yes, the truth weighed heavily on his shoulders, but he kept telling himself there had to be _ something _ he could do. Right? Something that proves Goro could move from under Shido’s thumb? For every moment spent in Akira’s presence, the tiny candle flame of hope in his subconscious burned a little brighter. 

More days passed just like that as their schools finished their courses and released the students for summer break. They went to the batting cages, played pool at this charming jazz club Goro had heard about on the internet. Goro found himself falling more and more in love with the boy he was going to kill. All rational thought told him to stop. To abandon Akira, do the deed, and never think about him again for as long as he lived. However long that ended up being, that is, after all of this was done. Shido breathed down his neck every day, demanding updates on the creation of his plan. Just as Goro found himself planning the murder of who was perhaps the only real friend he ever had, he found he couldn’t stop. Goro was in freefall, and every second not spent in Akira’s presence was one more memory he wasn’t going to have after Akira was dead. 

Moments spent with Akira were moments he found himself beginning to treasure, and Goro wasn’t sure what to do with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently holding my breath and waiting for the hate mail.


	3. Paraphrasing Hegel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY THIS IS SO LAAATE 
> 
> I had to fill in a huge time gap I'd entirely forgotten about, and I needed to research Hegel and a bunch of other stuff to do it. Please forgive me ;~~~~~; 
> 
> I'll do my best to make sure there aren't gaps this large between chapters in the future!

When Goro was a young boy, he read a great deal. He would read complicated works just for fun, and the building of that skill led to Goro reading the works of philosophers at a rather young age. When Goro was 15, he read a piece on German Idealism by G.W.F. Hegel. 

Hegel posited that there was an inherent relationship between two like-minded consciousnesses, which he dubbed the Master/Slave dialectic. 

There was a phrase in philosophy from Zeno the Stoic that stated, “Dialectic is a closed fist, and Rhetoric is an open hand,” and to Goro, Hegel’s dialectic was the perfect example of this. In his dialectic, Hegel proposed with absolutely no room to argue that if two consciousnesses met one another, and they were mirrors of each other, the two consciousnesses would battle to the death until one came out on top (master), who values their freedom over their life, and the other came out on the bottom (slave) who conversely believes life is more valuable than freedom. 

At that point, the two consciousnesses would feed off of one another, the master consciousness demanding satisfaction from the slave, and the slave consciousness initially seeking approval from the master consciousness. Right up until that consciousness realized that the master had become entirely dependent on the work that sustained it. 

Which, if one asked Goro, perfectly encapsulated the relationship he had with Shido Masayoshi. 

He met Shido when he was around 14, 15 years of age, and offered his services in order to obtain Isshiki Wakaba’s research. Shido had looked at him, a child, and had seen an opportunity. He saw someone he could exploit. So he told Goro to use his abilities to go into the Metaverse and destroy Isshiki Wakaba’s shadow. When Shido initially pitched the idea to Goro, he told him that killing the shadow was only killing a part of Wakaba’s consciousness, which would force the brain to reboot. 

Killing the shadow would only knock out Wakaba, he said, and that’s what Goro (decidedly foolishly) had elected to believe. 

He wasn’t sure what he’d find, in the depths of the Metaverse, when he entered the consciousness of Isshiki Wakaba. She didn’t have a palace, but the paranoia she was experiencing regarding the safety of both her research and her daughter had caused a small space to be opened in Mementos for her, and when Goro approached her, she had been muttering to herself. 

“Have to protect it, have to keep it safe, the truth, the both of us. Need to keep the truth safe. Futaba can never know.” 

She had her back to Goro, it was almost too easy. 

The first shot Goro made, he missed her head by two inches. Startled, the shadow turned to find him, when something happened that continues to haunt Goro in his darkest nightmares. Wakaba’s shadow widened her eyes, a look of  _ recognition _ crossed her face. 

Before Goro’s second bullet passed through her brain, and the shadow disappeared in a cloud of smoke. 

To this day, Goro wonders what the shadow would have said if he had stopped to talk to her. 

There were obviously things that Wakaba knew that could have damaged Shido’s reputation. On nights where the nightmares made it impossible to sleep, Goro wondered if he was sent to kill her for something more than just her research. Still, that act solidified something between he and Shido. 

He now had a service to offer that Shido desired, and Shido had someone under his employ who could commit the perfect crime, and if Goro ever argued or fought against him, he could get away scott free from any kind of implications of guilt while Goro took the fall for murder. Thus their establishment of master/slave was born. Thesis, antithesis. Shido pushed to gain his own elevation, Goro worked for justice. However dubious one could call his measure of justice, anyway. He wanted, most of all, for revenge. He wanted revenge for his mother, who never asked to birth him into a world that would never accept him, and for himself, cast aside as he was by both his father and society. 

Goro often wondered what would result the moment he revealed that he, Detective Price Akechi Goro, was the bastard son of the newly-elected Prime Minister. Logically, he knew the progression of events would force Shido to resign and exile himself from the political world with extreme shame. He might even be arrested if Goro accused him of murder, as well. Though that would likely never happen. He would then be obligated to explain the Metaverse to a court of normal civilians, and that wouldn’t go over very well. He could accuse Shido of forcing him to cause the mental shutdowns, but then the next question out of any rational prosecutor’s mouth, especially Sae’s, would be, “How?” and that would also force him to explain the whole Metaverse concept. 

Shame would have to be enough. 

Goro wasn’t sure that it would. 

Goro wasn’t aware of the rather massive hole he dug for himself with regards to working with Shido until he looked up at the sky from the bottom. Fighting back initially felt hopeless, a fool’s errand that would result in nothing more than his plan backfiring straight into his own face. Perhaps that possibility was still on the table, perhaps it wasn’t. He had never considered what would happen if he…  _ wiggled _ . If he contested Shido’s methods, if he just  _ didn’t _ fulfil a target request. He had a skill that Shido didn’t- he had a means of retaliation that Shido couldn’t even match, let alone copy in an attempt to replace or defeat him. Such was the way of the Master/Slave dialectic. Goro had become cognizant of the fact that the very thing that made himself invaluable to Shido, also made him  _ stronger _ than Shido, and with that knowledge he could fight back against him. 

With help, he could easily tear through Shido’s Palace. He could likely even infiltrate the palace alone, were it not for the possibility of Shido’s own safeguards against him. Goro had looked Shido up on the Metaverse app out of spite one bitter night when he couldn’t sleep and had emptied his entire stomach at the memory of the room full of ghosts he’d created with his own two hands. The ship itself was gaudy and disgusting, a testament to Shido’s pride. If Goro ever saw the inside of that travesty ever again, it would only be in order to kill the man, and that was that. 

Goro wondered if he couldn’t persuade the Phantom Thieves to take his request. Akira would undoubtedly agree, seeing as they had by now fostered a pretty solid friendship against Goro’s better judgment. Shido continued to call him daily, looking for updates on his plan to kill Akira. He’d explained what was to be his plan so many times that the idea no longer made him nauseous. A small, decidedly rational part of his brain that sounded a lot like Robin Hood continuously reminded him that he didn’t have to do this. He didn’t have to go along with Shido’s plans. He could just… stop killing for him. That this wasn’t worth the cost.   
  


Killing Okumura was the final straw. 

Goro didn’t want to do this anymore.

That night, despite being entirely exhausted, Goro went to Leblanc. He wasn’t sure why, exactly. There was a deep yearning in his chest to be within Akira’s orbit while he settled himself down and weighed his options. Though he had done this time and time again with himself, Goro felt that perhaps that nagging voice in the back of his head that kept telling him it was hopeless would silence within Akira’s presence this time. He sat in his usual spot in front of the magazines, and waited for Akira to return. 

He was halfway through his second cup of coffee when Akira came through the door of the cafe, frowning deeply at his phone. Oh yes, that was right, Okumura’s daughter was a Phantom Thief now. Guilt settled heavily into Goro’s stomach and he tried to push it aside. He’d made yet another orphan as a result of his actions, and that fact itched at his skin. Akira looked up at him and a small measure of relief came across his face. Goro tried not to acknowledge how that only made him feel  _ worse _ .    
  
“Rough day?” The words left Akira’s mouth easily, unknowing exactly what he was asking Goro. Goro simply nodded, “I felt… like I needed to be here. The atmosphere is very calming, and I have indeed had a rough day.” Akira sent him a measured stare, before sitting down next to him to his left. He didn’t ask Goro what was wrong, he didn’t ask anything of him or request that he explain why his day was difficult. He just sat there, and Goro knew that if he began to talk that Akira would listen. This was… exactly what he needed, actually. 

Goro sat there with Akira, who had now received a plate of curry from Sojiro and his own coffee, and weighed his options. Sae’s palace was nearly complete, setting the stage for his and Shido’s supposed plan. The plan that Goro was more and more opposed to with each passing day. He felt as though he was dragging out doing something about it, though he had to consider that he would need a plan to combat his previous plan that fooled Shido instead of Akira. A plan of that magnitude would take time to develop.

If he chose to no longer partake in Shido’s machinations, he would need Akira’s help. This was something he couldn’t do on his own. For all that Goro was prideful, and for all the wrath Goro possessed, Shido’s influence over him was too strong, and Akira’s quiet confidence gave him what remaining strength he needed to make this final push. He was resolved to fill in at least most of this hole he dug for himself, but now that also included helping Sae instead of setting her up to be the trap that captured the Phantom Thief Joker. This would require… a significant amount of deception. But Goro was placing a high-stakes bet that everything would turn out for the better. 

When Akira was done with his curry, Goro turned to him with a small, soft smile. It was a genuine one, and one of the first he could muster. Leaving the remaining half of his cold second coffee on the counter, Goro pushed in his chair. “Thank you, Akira. I know what I have to do now.” Akira smiled brightly back at him with a soft reply of, “I’m happy I could help.” Goro left the cafe and headed to the train station to catch the last train of the night. In his train car, entirely devoid of others, Goro allowed himself to lament that this couldn’t happen any easier, given how far into this plot he already was. 

Blackmailing Akira felt like slow-motion suicide.

Part of him mentally begged Akira to forgive him, at least for this. The other part told him he deserved whatever contempt the raven now held for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> O O F
> 
> See if y'all can spot the line that Pas is the most proud of having written lmao 
> 
> I'm sure someone out there has, but I don't think I've ever seen anyone dig into the whole Hegel dialectic thing? So I just kinda. 
> 
> Went ahead and did it a lil. 
> 
> This was also kinda me spit-balling the idea of using Hegel's theory of thesis/antithesis for Shuake Week. Let me know what you guys think!
> 
> Until next time! <3


	4. Zero Sum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm here! I promise! Last night was rough, and I was very tired, so I'm posting things up today now that I have a clear head and can edit more effectively. 
> 
> I wanted to stop this chapter where I did, because next chapter is going to be very long since it's the whole Sae's Palace bit, and the escape outlined in Letters from Home is something Akira barely remembers because of the drugs. From Akechi's perspective the scene will go quite differently, and with a lot more panic, so I broke it off where I did to spare you all several pages of my ramblings. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Nearly two days into the formulation of his new plot, Goro realized he had reached his decision too late. 

There was no way out that didn't involve harming Akira at some point, either by his hand or someone else's. If Goro did not fulfill this request, Shido had laid out in no uncertain terms that Goro would be deemed useless to him and therefore disposable. Shido would no doubt send someone else, one of his Yakuza, perhaps, or one of his dirty cops, to finish the job. That thought settled like a stone in Goro's stomach, that no matter what he did, Shido would win anyway, and Akira would die regardless of any actions on their part. 

Goro had just begun to start enjoying his time with the Thieves, too. 

Goro has never been able to work with a team, since up until now he'd believed he was the only one capable of summoning a Persona. Robin Hood was happy, since he never really got to stretch his legs very often, and Goro enjoyed the atmosphere of the group. They bantered back and forth, worked out problems as a team, and generally tried to keep each other alive. 

Goro never really thought anything of it when Futaba snatched his phone from his hands. He looked over his phone when she returned it, and nothing seemed out of place, but the person who handled his phone was  _ Futaba _ . He had to labor under the assumption that she’d done something to his phone, and he did. His conversations with Shido were more open in the hopes that Futaba would pick up the hint and maybe something would happen. 

The whole team was incredibly tactile with each other, in such a way that made Goro grateful he always wore leather gloves and long sleeves. Ryuji once threw an arm around Goro and his entire body lit up like a firecracker. He'd felt like a livewire had been dropped squarely onto his shoulders. He had flinched away from Ryuji under the pitiful excuse that the blond had startled him. He felt Akira's eyes on him all the same. Since then, any time anyone has reached out to touch him, it has always been Akira, it has always been slowly, and it has always been with permission.

Cringe-worthy levels of friendship aside, Goro had begun thinking that he could get used to this. 

The others deferred to Akira's judgement as leader far too easily. Akira had placed Goro on the front line with him, and never ordered him to move to the back. No one even attempted to contest this with him, even though Makoto definitely looked like she had words to say. Akira and Goro worked together, mostly in tandem, and always as a pair. Something about that felt right, like they were meant to be a unit. There was something… unhinged about Joker that Goro absolutely loved. Something dark and lethal. Joker was where Akira had hidden all of his confidence, it seemed. Goro would be branded a liar if he'd said that he wasn't attracted to that bloodthirsty grin that would splinter across Joker's face when Goro followed up on one of Joker's attacks. Something  _ boiled _ under the surface of his skin when Joker smiled at him like that, and Goro had to keep himself in check from giving his own malicious grin in return. 

Since joining the Phantom Thieves, Goro has had a lot of dreams about what could potentially happen if he followed up on an instance of that smile with the barrel of his ray gun under Joker's chin. He always woke from those dreams with the desperate need for a cold shower. He’d woken up on one such night and opened his journal to a rare, empty page in the hopes that writing something would distract himself 

_ November 12 _

_ Fuck. I knew I was attracted to him, I knew that this feeling could be called love, but it’s no longer up for debate. I’m  _ _ in love _ _ with him and if Shido ever found out, I’d be strung up and crucified. Homosexuality in Japan is still a controversial topic, though admittedly less so now than it has been in the past. But most of Shido’s voters are conservative, and he’ll be inclined to sway towards their end of the spectrum for their benefit. He’ll say or do anything to get this election.  _

_ Even if it means both Akira and I die. _

_ Fuck. _

Akira himself changed very little in personality after Goro was added to the team. Except now he would ask him about what he thought about their targets in Mementos and go over strategies with him. During meetings, Goro leaned on Akira's chair, and Akira didn't seem to mind. They had gotten closer, perhaps. Goro treasured these moments. 

It was one day, during a Mementos request, that Goro finally decided to stop flip-flopping on what to do with regards to Shido and get a grip on himself. 

The problem with Goro's resolve is that it was perfectly capable of setting to one course, but that was a unidirectional process. Once he decided to deviate from that direction, he was easily discouraged. He tried letting Akira know through subtle means, but the raven never responded in a way that told him he understood, so Goro was left with believing that he didn't get it. Akira's apparent lack of understanding and Shido exerting as much pressure as he could onto Goro left him feeling like his endeavor was hopeless. He had to find a new course of action. 

Luckily, Akira did that for him. 

They were deep in Mementos, chasing after a list of targets. Akira was insistent that they get them done today, as Sae's calling card was being sent tomorrow. That was fine by Goro- more time spent with Akira now meant less time between when either he killed Akira in one last, blood soaked regret, or Shido killed them both. If time had to be spent, he'd rather spend it with Akira. 

Akira had been staring at him since their latest encounter. The shadow had melted away to reveal its monstrous form, and that form happened to know Hamaon. With Arsene in Akira's mask at the moment, he was very weak to bless and expel based skills. If that attack hit Akira, the likelihood of it being fatal was very high. 

Goro didn't think about it, he just moved. 

He pushed Akira out of the way and took the brunt of the attack. He received no damage thanks to Robin Hood, but he was  _ pissed _ . Loki crackled to life under his skin and Goro was forced to suppress him. The  _ audacity _ of this tiny, insignificant shadow. In his ire, he used Megidolan and very nearly vaporized the shadow in a rather unique expression of overkill. 

After that fight, they made their way to the platform, chattering amongst themselves about how cool that was. Akira stared at Goro. It had been a few minutes by now. Futaba kept looking back at them, an odd expression on her face. Something was happening, but Goro didn't know what. 

When they reached the platform, Akira told the others to go downstairs. Apparently they had reached a break level, according to Futaba, and Akira wanted to talk to Goro in private. He tried not to think about how Makoto looked at him as they descended the stopped escalator, leaving he and Joker alone. The air between them quickly became thick with anxiety as they each waited a moment to speak.

"What did you want to talk about," Goro finally asked, attempting to maintain his plastic pleasantries. 

"Why did you do that?"

Oh. Was that all..? "Well, you are weak to bless, are you not? You would have died." 

The irony of that statement was  _ entirely  _ not lost on Goro.

Akira stared at him for a moment before looking down at feet and stuffed his hands into his pockets. He did this when he wanted to appear small, and Goro thought that didn't look right on the usually overconfident Joker. "You know," he began, "You don't have to leave, when all this is over."

Now wasn't that a thought? Goro blanked for a moment before responding, "Yes, I do. It's part of our deal, remember? The Phantom Thieves will disband after this." As much as Goro would love to stay, he couldn’t. This would either end with the Thieves disbanding or Akira dying, whichever came first. Goro didn’t want to think about losing this sense of comfort he found in working with this group. He didn’t want to leave but he  _ had to _ , or would be forced to, regardless. 

"Why? You've seen what we do, you don't have to shut us down like that. Just, stay. We can work together." Goro was already shaking his head and Akira looked a little lost. There were emotions at play here, and where they were usually able to speak calmly on such matters, Goro quickly felt the possibility of that falling away to frustration. 

"Joker, I can't- this is still vigilantism, at best! You can't just go around and change people's opinions of the world like this-"

"But it's  _ working _ ! We're actually making a difference, Crow-" 

They were tired. That was all this was. Exhaustion and frustration building up like a bubble. It'll pop and they'll go back to normal. 

Goro thought it was funny how he liked to lie to himself. 

Sighing heavily, Goro lifted his mask off his face and set it aside on a bench. He ruffled a hand through his hair and turned back to Akira, "Yes, what you're doing is working. I would have never even thought of how well this would work unless I'd seen it up close, but dammit, you aren't listening to me! This isn't justice, this is just manipulation with a favorable outcome!"

Akira lifted his mask off his face, too, setting it on the top of his head, "Then stay! Let me show you! It's not manipulating people, I can prove that! Why won't you give me a chance? Why do you keep pushing me away?" 

This… sounded like much more than an argument about ethics. 

"I  _ can't  _ stay, Akira, even if I wanted to! I-" Akira advanced on him as he spoke, though Goro did not feel threatened by his actions. Akira looked to be in hot debate with himself, before cutting Goro off mid-sentence with a hissed, “ _ Fuck it, _ ” and grasped the back of Goro’s head, pulling him inward. 

There, in the heat of their argument, Akira’s lips met his, and Goro  _ melted _ . His entire body was rocked with waves of prickles, pins and needles stemming from his lips all the way down to his knees. He almost buckled from his own weight, but he reached out and balled his fists in Akira’s black coat to keep himself steady. When he was sure he wasn’t about to fall, Goro released his left hand from Akira’s coat and buried it in that fluffy black mop of hair on his head. Goro could now confirm that Akira’s hair was far too soft than any hair had the right to be, silky and faintly smelling of coffee. A warm, wet feeling skirted along the seam of his lips, and Goro yielded with no complaint, opening his mouth to admit Akira’s tongue. 

Goro let Akira take the lead, reveling in the feelings that washed over him. The rest of the world fell away, leaving quiet and only the soft sounds of their kisses reached his ears. There was no Shido, there was no plot. Akira was supposed to be dead by this time tomorrow. But honestly, he didn't care. Goro has been known to be a selfish creature. Despite whatever fate that lay before them, he took once, twice, thrice more kisses than he was given. So reluctant was he to let go of this boy. A prickling feeling reached his eyes the more his brain screamed at him that this was only going to do more damage in the end. His lungs nearly collapsed for all the breath he was willing to lose in this kiss. If giving Akira his own breath from his lungs would save him from the coming doom, Goro was willing to give him every breath he had. That realization right there forced the tears over his lashes to trek across his cheeks. 

Death almost seemed preferable than the idea of living without at least one more kiss of those lips.

They parted from the kiss for lack of precious, limited air, and stood there in shock. He looked at Akira, entirely dumbfounded, and the beat of silence gave his brain the opportunity to catch up with the rest of him. Akira had just  _ kissed _ him. He had never been kissed before, and never once even thought about how it would feel  _ to _ kiss someone. He never thought he would ever meet someone who would  _ want _ to kiss him, and the one who finally did it was the boy he was supposed to murder tomorrow. Good gods, a month ago, he was resigned to the fact that he was about to kill this boy, and now… 

Goro couldn’t handle his burden any longer. Akechi Goro began to cry, right there, on this filthy platform in one of the lowest reaches of Mementos. He cried for the life he had been ordered to take, and the unfairness of their situation. For how helpless he felt in that all the plans and counter plans he tried to come up with that would just lead to their deaths anyway. He cried for Akira, who loved him in return and had no idea of the coming betrayal. But most of all, he cried for himself. For what he had done, and what he had been about to do. For all the others he’d killed in cold blood to get here. The implications of the sum of all of his actions barreled into him with all the force of the trains running behind them. 

Akira reached for him, and Goro shrank from his touch. If Akira held him, he’d fall apart in his arms. He’d be truly lost, and he knew if he confessed to Akira he would lose him just the same as if he’d killed him. Goro shuddered as he held his hand over his mouth, eyes screwed shut as if it would dam the tears spilling from his eyes. What he didn’t expect, was that Akira- stupid, stubborn, proud, perfect Akira -would begin to speak. 

“Goro… Please, don’t cry. I get the feeling that you have something on your mind, and you don’t want to share it with me. I don’t know if I’ve done you wrong by kissing you, but I want to clear the air. I care about you, Goro, very much. If that upsets you, I’m sorry. We can drop it, really. You’re not obligated to feel anything for me just because I feel for you,”    
  
Akira was far sweeter than most people Goro had met in his life. His heart churned at the possibility of what would have happened if he hadn't fallen for this stupid boy and did kill Akira tomorrow. The world would be that much colder, and that much darker, and that much smaller. Goro hated himself for having ever entertained the idea. 

“I want you to be able to relax around me. I noticed a long time ago that you put up this front so other people never get close. It’s like you’re always in front of a camera. I don’t want that. I want the real Akechi Goro, the one who calls me out on my shit and isn’t afraid to speak his mind. I see that side of you sometimes, and it hurts me that you don’t just let go. It’s not healthy, Goro. You act like you can’t trust anyone, and… I don’t know, I’ve just always wanted you to trust me, like how I trust you.” 

Those were dangerous words. How stupid could Akira be, to trust him? Why trust the person who had at one point planned to kill you, however reluctantly? Unless Akira was aware, and didn't care. A pit opened up in his stomach and he turned to look at the raven-haired boy in front of him. Did he know? Was it possible he was aware this whole time?    
  
Wasn’t that what he wanted?    
  
“Look, Goro. I know you like to be independent. But everyone needs some kind of support. Moral, emotional, what have you. I just… I want you to be able to lean on me. Bring your problems to me. Because I  _ want _ to hear them. I want to help you. However little that is, whatever you're comfortable with. If me giving you coffee every time you come to the store is good enough, I’ll keep doing that. I’m happy to do it. If you want to text me at 3am and tell me things that keep you up at night, do it. I’m here, no matter what.  _ I want you around _ , Goro. I see you going through so much, and you won’t accept help for any of it. So I just.. Want to show you that I care, and that I’m here. That’s all.” 

Goro was absolutely astounded. That had to have been more words that Akira had spoken in the last few minutes than all other words he had spoken combined, and each one was something Goro needed to hear. Did he really want Goro around, was all of that real and not just a ruse? Goro was mid thought, questioning himself even more, when Akira brushed a bang from his face so softly Goro had to physically stop himself from turning his cheek into Akira’s palm. Akira slowly, so as to show Goro that he could stop him if he wanted, leaned up and placed one last, soft kiss on his brow, before sliding his mask back on his face. Then Akira replaced his own mask, and they were Joker and Crow once more. “You don’t have to say anything, Crow. I just wanted you to hear how I felt, before we joined the others.” 

They descended the escalator to meet with the others, who looked relieved they'd returned at all. Perhaps the others were more aware of what Goro intended than he'd previously suspected. Goro now had quite a lot to consider. He needed time, and distance, before he came to any conclusions. Luckily, the following floor was the locked door to yet another area, and they decided to go home. 

When they'd return from Mementos, they dispersed with promises to meet tomorrow for the palace infiltration. "Akira," Goro began, uncertainty still thick on his tongue. Akira turned to him, dark gray eyes open and hopeful. Oh, gods, but he was beautiful. Goro could feel tears attempt to well up again, and he stomped them down before they could rise and make themselves known. "I'll… see you tomorrow. Good night." 

Akechi Goro was a coward. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eheheheheheeee
> 
> So Goro has already decided not to kill Akira, but in coming up with a way to undermine Shido, he's been overthinking his plans. Then Shido calls and yells at him, and he feels discouraged, he feels like it's hopeless and they're gonna die anyway so why not try to enjoy what time he has, and then he decides fuck that, that's stupid, and the cycle begins anew. I noticed in canon that Akechi actually does a little flip flopping of his own, because at first he's full blown, "This isn't justice, and y'all are criminals," and then he's like, "Nah they're cool, hey what about this black mask dude I bet he's being controlled by someone else haha," and however much of that is meant to garner public opinion aside, he does it often in his conversations with Akira and the other PTs, who he doesn't have to impress or convince. So you see this divide between Goro (being the Hegel-esque slave consciousness) wiggling under the pressure of Shido (the Hegel-esque master consciousness) and he therefore decides to kinda cry for help. You see it smattered through his text messages and contact with Akira, but you don't see him... resolve to do anything about it? He just kinda. Goes along with the plan anyway, and I wanted to kinda dig into the reasoning why, because from what I could see there was no logical impetus for that behavior (beyond Atlus' story regarding Akechi being a lil bit full of holes lol). 
> 
> He's no longer flip flopping! I promise, I wasn't gonna drag that out forever. I don't have time for that lol! Up next: Sae's Palace and The Prison Break!
> 
> Until next time!


	5. The Font of Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOOOOOOOFFFFFF This one is so long. It's s o l o n g. But it's all the same part? I couldn't trim any down and there wasn't a better place to stop s O 
> 
> Giant shout out to Prompt_Master, for once again reading through my rambling and helping me edit this monstrosity. I would have given up halfway without you ;~~~~~; 
> 
> Enjoy, everyone!

On the train home, Goro found himself once more deep in thought. He once more weighed the pros and cons of each of his options. If he didn't kill Akira, he'd be hunted down and murdered by any one of Shido's other associates. Despite his usefulness, deep down Goro had realized long ago that he was just as expendable to Shido as anyone. There was no way Goro could take out Shido on his own. The man knew exactly what kind of monster he'd created, and there was no telling what would happen if Goro tried to make an attempt on his life, or what countermeasures he had in place. 

There was also the consideration of his justice, but wasn't that also flawed, by this point? Hasn't he lost sight of his goal? At what point does all this death matter? After how many bodies left in his wake will he finally be close enough in Shido’s trust to inflict any amount of damage to his reputation by his betrayal? Wasn't each subsequent death after Isshiki Wakaba just a further nail into his coffin? The only person who would take the fall if he betrayed Shido would be himself, and it’d taken him this long to notice that. Goro had to pull himself out of the cyclone of anger that he’d thrust himself into, as thinking about that now would waste precious time. He had to think of the future, at least the next 24 hours. He had to think about Akira, and what he was to do about that. 

Even thinking about that kiss made Goro's lips tingle. He didn't want to give that up, and each thought he had about killing him should have immediately been thrown out into the dirt. 

Something in Goro snapped, like a rubber band pulled too tightly. 

_ Fuck this. _

This was foolish! Why had he even considered it? Yes, Shido basically owns his entire life. Yes, if he defied Shido he'd find some way to have Goro arrested or he'd kill Goro himself. That was fine! Let him try! Goro had to think for himself, for once, and not latch onto his anger. Doing that thus far had availed him nothing. He had to make a stand, and this was where the line was to be drawn. He could pay for everything else later. But first, he had to get through tomorrow. 

Resolute, Akechi Goro squared his shoulders, and headed off the platform back to his apartment. He had precious, limited time, and he had to plan. 

_ November 18, _

_ It’s early enough in the morning to see the sun. The world is bathed in the blue/grey predawn hours, and I have developed a plan.  _

_ They know.  _

_ There is absolutely no way they don’t. I’ve located Futaba’s bug in my phone. This actually serves me well, here. Despite my earlier assumptions of how I’d feel in this situation, I’m proud to hear they’ve deduced the truth. Akira is a very smart man. Even so, I can’t help but wonder why he would go through so much for me if he was aware this whole time. That kiss felt real. I’m going to keep hoping it was. I don’t know what’s going to happen today, but if all goes well our two plans should coincide with one another. I’m going to do this, because I do not want to be part of this scheme any longer. I want to decide the truth for myself. I no longer care if Shido acquires this notebook.  _

_ I refuse to allow him to abuse me any longer, and I refuse to take part in any more of his plot. I will save Akira, and let him pass judgment on me later. Somewhere in an old text, I’ve heard it said that, “whoever saves one life, saves the world entire.” For all the life I have taken in service to Shido, in the service of what I’d hoped to be my justice, I hope that saving this one life gives Akira the ability to save this world.  _

_ No matter what happens to me when all this is over.  _

There was an odd level of dissociation regarding what he perceived the Thieves to be up to in regards to his plan, and what he had already settled on doing to resolve it. Goro almost felt like his awareness was pushed away from his body as they ascended the stairs to fight the Shadow of Sae, watching from a distance instead of being fully present. 

When Akira selected him to shoot out the glass panel, Goro jumped up onto the ledge and ran across until he had a sufficient vantage point. He watched from afar as Joker turned to him, looking up at him with a look of playful desire, and crooked his finger at him. The danger of what Akira was asking him to do was absolutely not lost on him. He wanted Goro to shoot past his head, and trusted him to make the shot. 

Even though, as far as they were concerned, Goro was going to kill him just later tonight. 

A fire ignited in Goro’s belly at the mere thought of what this action suggested, and fired right past Akira’s head, singing his hair just slightly. Akira smirked up at him, a dark and lethal thing, and Goro nearly melted. He had to focus on the task at hand, and what plans he had for when this was over. 

Fighting Sae was… difficult. The actual fighting wasn’t a problem, it was staring down someone he respected that he’d endangered with his actions. He put her here. He made Sae’s palace grow and grow until she created this cognition before them. He was directly responsible for this, and in light of recent events, he honestly regretted having facilitated this. All he could do for her, for now, was help the others incapacitate her shadow and hopefully, when all of this is over, Sae could use whatever change of heart she experienced to succeed in life. 

When the fighting was done, Goro was already exhausted. He’d used most of his stamina brute-forcing his way through her Heat Riser phase, trying to knock her out before she charged at them with everything she had. It was funny- Goro had almost entirely forgotten what was about to happen until Futaba mentioned there was a spike in guard activity outside in the casino. Goro’s heart plummeted as he realized what was about to happen, and he glanced at Akira, who had a determined look on his face. 

It was the moment of truth. 

They had all agreed to split up, and Goro took off down an accessway that should lead out towards the roof of the palace, where he could escape. He met minimal resistance, which was good for him and his nearly depleted stamina. He skidded out onto the roof and made his way over to the edge, gawking at the size of the force Shido had acquired to capture Joker. There was no way Akira was getting out of this. There were  _ hundreds _ of them, all lined up in formation. It was as though they were each a physical manifestation of Goro’s guilts and fears, all bearing down on the one precious thing he’d ever had in his life.

Goro got a hold of himself just in time to see Joker erupt from the window in front of the player’s room. The raven arced with grace and deftness, before landing on his feet and rolling out of the way of falling glass. Goro couldn’t help himself, he laughed. He laughed  _ hysterically _ , genuinely, and with so much fondness it caused his ribs to ache. 

Akira was an insufferable fool, and Goro absolutely adored him for it. 

Goro used his app to escape after watching Joker be caught. There was some time between now and the time he could break Joker out of the holding facility, but every second had to be spent wisely. He couldn’t let Shido know he was planning to keep Akira alive, and his plan did require a little bit of last minute planning. He had to secure a vehicle, and a means of getting out of the facility. But Akira and the others  _ had _ to be developing a plan, and whatever plan they concocted was something he had to be ready for, too. If any of them tried to stop him, chances were high that no one would believe him and he’d be at an impasse, or captured. 

Unfortunately for him, Shido called him after only a couple days, and Goro only had half of what he needed. 

“Go ahead,” was all Shido said, before hanging up on his protest. Huffing indignantly, Goro settled on recruiting Sae for help and winging the rest. 

It would have to do. 

Goro descended the elevator, full of nervous energy. What would happen if this went wrong? They’d both be arrested and killed later by Shido, probably. But did that matter? This wasn’t the time for fear or hesitation. It was all or nothing. This is what Goro believed in, and he was going to place all of his faith in Akira now. 

While walking down the hall, he had the absolute fortune to run into Sae, who seemed confused and flustered. 

“Sae-san,” Goro greeted, dragging Sae out of her thoughts to look up at him. “Akechi-kun! What brings you down here?” 

  
  
“I’m actually glad I ran into you- I need your help.” 

“My hel… why? What’s going on?” 

  
  
“If I promise to explain to you once we’re out of here, can you meet me with your car outside the service entrance at the back of the building? I would greatly appreciate it.” 

Sae leveled him with the kind of analytical gaze that made most criminals break on the stands, but Goro held strong, a pleasant smile on his face. Something in his expression must have given him away, for Sae turned to look back at the door to Akira’s interrogation room, and then back to him. 

“What you’re doing is illegal.”    
  
“Ah. Yes, I suppose it is. However, it’s what I believe is right. Are you going to stop me, Sae-san?” 

Sae stared at him for a moment, then looked away from him as she weighed her options. Goro patiently waited for her response, despite the anxiety building with each passing microsecond Sae didn’t respond. Eventually, she turned to him and sighed, “Explain in the car, the entire truth,” and swept past him to the elevator. 

Goro breathed out a relieved sigh and steadied himself on the wall for a moment before continuing onward. 

He had to hurry now, and there wasn’t a second to waste. He looked at the guard by the door and grabbed him by the collar with one hand and the doorknob with the other. He pushed open the door as he said, “You listen to me. If you don’t make yourself scarce, so scarce even  _ I _ can’t find you, and if you ever breathe a word to Shido about what I’ve done here today, I’ll make sure your pieces are  _ never found _ .” 

He left the cop to panic and do whatever he pleased as his eyes settled on the bruised and battered form of Kurusu Akira. 

Goro swore under his breath as he approached the raven, who was looking despondent and distant at the floor. “Kurusu…” Goro breathed, bending down to look at him. Akira groaned and shook his head weakly. This wasn’t good. Goro tilted his head to force the raven to look up at him, “Akira, can you hear me?” Bleary slate eyes blinked up at him, a soft “Goro,” leaving his lips, more breath than word. Okay, so he could at least recognize him. That was good. Looking down at the floor around Akira, he noticed the five empty syringes on the ground. Those motherfuckers. 

Goro was going to find all of them and deal with them later. 

Attempting to grab him from under his arms, Goro realized that Akira weighed more than he’d expected. The other boy was mostly dead weight, and Goro would have a very tough time getting him out of here by himself. 

  
“Akira,” Goro called, nudging the boy’s face with his hand, “Akira, I need you to help me. You’re too heavy- we have to get outside. Come on!” Lifting Akira again, he found the raven capable of bearing some of his own weight. Together, they made their way out into the hall. 

“I can’t believe those assholes. Drugging a teenager just to force a confession. For fuck’s sake,” Goro found the rambling to be comforting in this current state of ire. It kept his mind off the fact that Akira was heavily dosed with whatever constituted as “truth serum” and was nearly unresponsive on his shoulder. He managed to get Akira into the elevator and propped him up against the wall so he could manage the buttons. So far, getting out of the facility undetected had been easy because no one was held down here  _ except _ Akira. The true test would come when Goro got him upstairs. It was late, so there weren’t going to be many guards around, or even lawyers by this point. However, there was a night rotation and one of them would pass by this elevator without fail every fifteen minutes. So far, Goro had used seven of those minutes, so there shouldn’t be a problem getting him into the hall, but the service hallway leading to the back door was close enough to the guard’s route that he might see them.    
  
Goro would have to play this very carefully. 

As soon as the elevator doors opened, Goro poked his head out into the hallway to find it devoid entirely of life. Perfect. Pulling Akira out from the elevator, he and the exhausted other boy carefully made their way through the hall. Passing the side staircase, Goro heard a sound that made his stomach drop: 

Footsteps. 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Goro looked around for places to hide the raven and couldn’t find anything immediately useful, so he settled on shoving Akira behind a planter with a giant fern that was tucked artfully next to the staircase. This served the dual purpose of hiding Akira from sight from the side, as the fern was very large, but also from above, as Akira was hidden mostly under the stairs. 

“Akechi-kun! You’re here late,” Came the voice of the guard as he descended the stairs, approaching an Akechi that was desperately trying not to freak out or shoot this man in a panic. “Ah, yes, well, I was just heading home. I forgot some paperwork and realized that Sae-san actually took it with her. A fruitless effort, it seems!” 

“Oh, well, I’m sorry to hear that! Do you need me to escort you out?”    
  
Escort him out? What did he look like, a five year old?    
  
“No, thank you, I can see myself out from here.” 

“Alright, well, have a good night, Akechi-kun!” The guard continued on his route, and when had turned the corner, Akechi ducked back down under the stairs to pull Akira up into a sitting position. 

“Are you still with me, Akira?” The raven groaned in his arms unintelligible words, and Goro sighed, “I can’t hear you, Akira. Speak up.” 

Akira groaned again, and mumbled just marginally louder, “Thought you were gone.” 

Goro took in a sharp breath as his heart stopped in his chest. Akira thought he’d left him here? He supposed that was fair, given what Akira had believed he’d come here to do today. “No,” Goro breathed, smoothing wayward curls from Akira’s eyes, “I won’t leave you.”

They made it to Sae’s car with little trouble after that. After a fashion, Goro and Sae got Akira to lie down in the back seat of the car, and Goro lifted his head up enough to fit in the remaining passenger seat. He laid Akira’s head in his lap and removed the glove from his left hand. He ran his fingers through Akira’s hair, not surprised to find it a little greasy and unkempt after two days of being held by the police. 

“I’m going to have to make a call. I’m sorry for how this is going to sound, but… before I begin telling you everything, Sae-san, before anything else, I have to make this phone call.” 

Sae watched him through the rearview mirror and simply nodded to him, and with his free hand, Goro dug out his phone from his pocket. It was a little difficult to dial with his right hand, considering it was not his dominant hand, but he was too busy soothing Akira to really care. He got there eventually, and the phone began to call out to Shido’s personal cell phone. 

“Shido-san,” Goro said as soon as the phone picked up the other end. 

Sae almost slammed on the breaks in moving traffic, which Goro didn’t expect. 

“What have I told you about calling me by name over the phone!?” Shido barked at him. Which, honestly, yes, he has. That’s why Goro did it. If memory serves, Futaba hasn’t had a chance to uninstall whatever bug she’d placed on his phone. He absolutely was going to call Shido by name over the phone, especially this one time. 

“Ah. My apologies,” Goro wanted to bite his fucking head off, but he figured he’d get the opportunity eventually, “I just wanted to inform you that I’ve finished the task you gave me.” 

Goro made it a point to scratch at Akira’s scalp, getting a tired and yet pleased groan in return from the sleepy raven. 

“Excellent. Good work. With the Phantom Thieves out of the way, we can continue with our plans.” Did Shido have to sound so corny, or was he just doing it naturally? 

“With their leader gone, I’m sure the others will fall apart. They’re useless without his guidance. None of the others are capable of filling his shoes.” Except maybe Makoto, in extremis, but he wasn’t about to tell Shido that. 

“Good. Make sure they all meet with unfortunate accidents in due time,” with that, Shido once again hung up on him. Goro looked at his phone with disdain and tossed it forward over the back of the passenger seat into the front of the car. 

“If I never hear that phone ring again, it’ll have been all too soon.” 

“Shido-san? As in Shido Masayoshi,” Sae asked, once again eyeing him from the rear view mirror. 

“Unfortunately. Sae-san, you have to understand. Shido has a lot of pull in this city, and he uses every inch of every resource. Taking him down will be a major effort. If I entrust you with this information, would you be willing to pursue it?” Goro had to be sure that if Sae wanted to be involved, that she’d involve herself 100%. Beyond what he’d promised to tell her, just knowing this information was liable to get her killed if Shido ever found out that she knew even one piece of it. They had to play as close to the chest as possible, and that came with accepting the risks, no matter what. 

“You’re saying you want to turn state’s evidence?” 

“Perhaps. My involvement is not negligible, however. Once you know the full story, you may not want to give me any kind of amnesty.” That was the cold, hard truth of it. In order to take Shido down, Goro would have to admit to everything he’d done in service to Shido. That was fine by him, he was willing to accept the risks. But… 

Looking down at the sleeping Akira in his lap, Goro finally realized exactly what he’d be sacrificing if he turned himself in to face Sae’s justice. He’d be giving up any chance he’d have at a normal life, potentially with Akira. He’d be giving up every freedom he’d won for himself. 

But it would be worth it, in the end. 

To keep Akira out of jail or the grave. It would be worth it. 

“I’m willing to hear what you have to say,” Sae said, slowing the car to a stop at a traffic light. Goro took a deep and meaningful breath through his nose and released it out from his mouth. 

Here he goes. 

“I suppose I should start at the very beginning. My mother died when I was very young. I never knew my father growing up- when the police came to collect me they weren’t sure what to do except wait for child services to come and pick me up at the station. I was put into orphanages and foster care until I was about… fourteen, or fifteen. I had learned that my birth father was Shido Masayoshi.” 

That definitely was not what Sae expected, as she made a noise in the back of her throat, “You- he’s your  _ father _ ?” 

  
“Regrettably,” Goro trailed off, drawing his hand through Akira’s hair again, yet again pushing the dirty curls out from his eyes, “He wasn’t the best kind of father. He doesn’t even know I’m his son, I think. He views me as a tool, in whatever capacity he can use me. For popularity, for... “ 

“For… what?” 

“For… causing mental shutdowns that I would inevitably solve as crimes.” Finally coming from his lips, the words sounded heavy. They were weighted, cursed. Damning. They were admissions of his guilt, and he’d just told them to one of the most successful prosecutors in Japan. 

“You caused the mental shutdowns?”    
  
“Yes.” 

“How..?” 

That was a heavy question, but if Goro didn’t know any better, he’d wager there wasn’t a whole lot of explaining he’d need to do. “I think Akira-kun must have told you. The ‘other world’? The Metaverse.” 

Sae seemed to still, going silent as she drove them to Yongen-Jaya, “... I thought he was joking. Or trying to deceive me.” 

“It’s no deception. I was able to enter that world and commit assassinations for Shido.” It was like a cork was pulled. The font of truth flowed from his lips, and honestly it made him feel lighter. His burden felt easier to carry telling someone else. 

“You have proof of this? Anything I can use to build a case against Shido,” Sae asked, a determination in her voice unlike any Goro had heard before this moment. “Call logs on that cell phone, some texts. You can probably look up call history, as well, for earlier dates.” 

Sae hummed, and had apparently decided that she had heard enough for now, because she changed the topic. “How is he?” 

Goro looked down at Akira again, peacefully sleeping with a bit of a smile on his face. “I think he’ll be fine. He obviously needs medical attention, but as I understand it there’s a very capable doctor just around the corner from Leblanc.” 

“And you?” 

How was… he? Did that matter? “I’m not injured, Sae-san. I’m perfectly fine.” Sae sighed from the driver’s seat, exasperated, “Not your physical health, Akechi-kun. How are  _ you _ ?” 

Goro had never been asked to consider that before- how he felt, emotionally. His emotions where something he’d only recently begun to acknowledge. He supposed… that if he had to give voice to how he felt, he could find the words. 

“I’m… tired. Not even physically tired, Sae-san. Just… exhausted. I’m tired of the duplicity, I’m tired of answering to Shido. I just want to  _ rest _ . How hard is it to just be able to rest?” Goro sighed heavily again and concentrated on the strands of Akira’s hair between his fingers. He had to get this out, he had to say this. Now that he started, he couldn’t stop, or he’d never say it again, “I  _ hate _ what I’ve been doing. The constant masks in front of everyone. The fans, the interviews, Shido. I’m sick of it. I’m sick of having to cover up the very nature of my existence simply because someone wants to win an election. My worth isn’t measured by someone else’s success.” 

Goro fell quiet then, staring out the window at the passing cars. They were close to Yongen now, and in just a few minutes they’d be giving Akira to Sojiro and this doctor, who undoubtedly knew Akira already and was liable to yell at them all. 

Quiet descended on the car, with Sae contemplating what she’d just heard, Goro mulling over what he’d just done, and Akira fast asleep in his lap. 

Sae had no more to say, except four words that were so quiet Goro was almost sure he hadn’t heard them at first. 

“I’m proud of you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are, past the first bad part of November. Are you guys excited? I am! Kinda.
> 
> Let me know what you think of this chapter! 
> 
> Until next time! <3


	6. The Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I TOLD Y'ALL I HADN'T FORGOTTEN! 
> 
> I got over my writer's block and I have R E T U R N E D
> 
> I'm still not all that confident with this chapter, and I'm a little sore about that writer's block, but I hope you accept this humble submission of a chapter! 
> 
> Please tell me how you like it! :D

Chapter Six: The Aftermath

They pulled up to a house in the alleyway just behind Leblanc, where Sojiro was waiting. He was scowling, which Goro felt he had every right to do, but at the very sight of Akira his scowl turned into panic. “What the hell- what happened!?” Goro knew there was a high likelihood that Sojiro was kept in the dark about what exactly was going to happen to Akira, but he shouldn’t have been surprised to see him in such a state. He wondered exactly how much the older man knew. 

He wondered how likely it was that the man didn’t know anything about Akira’s deeds.

Sojiro opened the passenger side door as Goro came around the other side of the car. Akira was passed out, dead to the world. He wasn’t any help at all as Sojiro pulled him by the legs towards the door and hooked an arm under his legs and shoulders, lifting him out of the car. Sojiro bumped his head against the door frame and only hissed in reply, as if this job was far more important than how badly he’d come back on the door frame. Goro offered to help, but Sojiro brushed him off and eventually stood with a limp Akira in his arms. 

Sojiro leveled him with a glare, one that Goro was fully certain he deserved, and asked him, “Who did this?” 

For once, Goro was grateful he could honestly say it wasn’t him. 

“Ah… the interrogators. Kurusu-kun was… arrested.” That was probably the best he could do without explaining exactly what it was that they… No, The Phantom Thieves… were doing that resulted in the arrest. Goro couldn’t count himself among their number, now could he? Not when he basically put Akira in this position. Sojiro looked down at Akira with a look on his face that told Goro he knew more than Goro thought- or at least, had suspected. He tucked Akira in closer to his chest in both a protective move, and one that ensured he wouldn’t slip as Goro held the front door open for him and they got Akira inside. Sojiro took him upstairs and Goro had no idea what to do. He stood in the mudroom, itching to see Akira, but also knowing he was in someone else’s house. He may not be welcome. 

Sojiro came back down the stairs, looking at him like he was crazy, “What are you doing down there? Come on up.” 

Ah. Well, then. Goro changed his shoes into the guest slippers by the door and followed Sojiro up the stairs. Sojiro’s house was somehow equal parts plain and cozy. Well cared-for wooden floors stretched across the narrow hall, with one door on his right and two on his left. The first door on his left appears to be a bathroom, and the door on the right appears to be a master suite. The last door on the left was open for Goro and approaching the door, Goro peered inside and found a guest room. 

A guest room? 

Sojiro was inside, covering Akira up to his shoulders in a blanket. “Sakura-san…” The older man lifted his head to look at Goro, and the brunet almost took a double take at how quickly Sojiro’s years aged his face. He appeared as though all of thirty years had passed between fishing Akira out of Sae’s car and this precise moment, and he sat back in the chair next to the bed. “Up until this August,” Sojiro began, sounding just as tired as he looked, “Futaba refused to come out of her room. After her mother passed, she just wouldn’t process it. I tried to be there, do the best that I could for her. I tried to be a father, when I thought she needed it most.” Goro listened intently, rolling over the desk chair and sitting in it next to Sojiro and by Akira’s head. The guest room was sparsely furnished; a sliding door closet along the rightmost wall inside the door, a desk, a chair, a seemingly brand new mattress, and an end table with a lamp. 

It was perfect for a teenager. 

Goro’s wordless question hung in the air while Sojiro spoke, hopefully answering that question threatening at the ends of his patience. “Akira’s parents are friends of a regular of mine. When they told me of his situation, at first I offered to take him in for the money,” Sojiro shakes his head, well aware of how selfish that sounded, “But also… He reminded me of myself, when I was his age. Getting into trouble, just trying to do the right thing. There was one point in my life when I thought it was hopeless; when people do the right thing, all they get is… this.” Sojiro gestures to Akira’s battered form under the blankets and for once Goro wished he was awake. Akira had a right to hear all of this, if he hadn’t already. 

“But I wanted to keep him away from Futaba. I thought he’d be a bad influence on her. I didn’t think I could have ever been more wrong. Akira brought Futaba out of her shell, and now they’re like brother and sister. I should have offered this room to him on the outset of his stay here, but…” 

“You were doing what you thought was right by your daughter, Sakura-san. Besides, would you really have appreciated the schedule this one keeps?” Sojiro laughed weakly at Goro’s response, knowing _exactly_ what the boy meant. Akira is infamous for denying himself rest and he’s up all hours of the night, running around doing favors for people and working an obscene amount of jobs just to keep them all supplied. The light chuckles between the two of them managed to crack some of the tension, but that was extremely short-lived. 

“I promised her mother.” 

There was absolutely no way Sojiro could have known the impact of that statement on Goro. It just wasn’t possible. They sat in silence for a moment as Goro contemplated what to say. Perhaps it was morbid curiosity, perhaps it was genuine. Or maybe he was just looking for sound to fill the void. Either way, entirely unbidden, Goro opened his mouth to speak. 

“Tell me about her?” 

Goro’s memories of Isshiki Wakaba were all clouded. Weathered from age and a single-minded desperation to not remember the first life he had ever taken. He remembered her zeal for her work. How even her shadow poured over a desk and computer files that were so confusing to Goro’s eyes he wondered if he could even _read_ the screen. He remembered her stare- hard and cold, unless whatever she was looking at had some kind of significance to her work. He remembered the love she bore Futaba. Even in the Metaverse, where all of Wakaba’s demons had come to carve out a hole in the depths of the collective human consciousness, she had a perfectly framed photo of her daughter in her space. It sat on her desk, glowing, as a reminder of why she worked so hard. 

He remembered standing with Shido on a street corner, and the older man holding him by the shoulders as he watched Isshiki Wakaba stumble into open traffic.

“She was dedicated. In a way that not a lot of people are these days. I didn’t know much about what she was studying- it all looked like gibberish to me, but I know it was important to her. I don’t even know why. All I know is what the government would let me know, and that was mostly the paperwork. But with Wakaba, you always picked up more from her conversations.” Goro suddenly doesn’t like where this is headed. This was making Wakaba sound too real. To… tangible, almost. Too _human_. Goro was learning about her as a _person_ and not as a scientist or a target. Less than kindly, Goro reminded himself that he did _ask_ for this. Maybe part of him was masochistic for wanting to know more. Or maybe he just wanted closure. 

“About a year before she died, Wakaba’s entire outlook on her work changed. I _thought_ what they were doing were… stress tests and sleep studies. Monitoring brain waves. Simple things used to prove a thesis on a physical science. Not… something unethical. The Wakaba I knew would vehemently turn down unethical research.” Sojiro brought a hand up to toy with the end of his beard, and he looked at Goro for a moment. “She changed so much around that time. Started to become afraid someone would steal her research. She came to me once or twice, and made me promise that if anything happened to her, I would protect Futaba. I think she knew something was about to happen to her. I’d wonder more about what trouble she could have possibly gotten into, but… what’s done is done.”

By the grace of whatever decided to call itself god in this world, that exact, tense instant Tae walked into the room. She saw Akira lying there on the bed and clicked her tongue. This was the first time Goro had ever met the secret doctor of the Phantom Thieves. As he understood it, Akira worked with her and she provided medicine for them in the field. What Akira could possibly do for her, he wasn't sure. But he _was_ sure that if he asked her, he may not like the answer. Sharp eyes pierced across the bed to look at Goro, and she looked back down at her patient. 

“What happened?” 

Goro disclosed to the doctor every injury he was aware of that Akira had suffered. The potentially broken or bruised ribs and jaw, the concussion (which further exacerbated her ire when they let him sleep on that, to which Goro countered he was unconscious when he found him so that damage had already been done). Her checks revealed that the concussion was thankfully a minor one, but to make sure Akira sees her as soon as he’s awake. His ribs were bruised pretty badly and one or two were fractured, but there was nothing she could do about that. The other bruises and contusions were things that would have to heal in time, but by some stroke of luck, nothing was broken. Goro wondered at more than one point during this check-up if he could just take Akira to the Metaverse and heal him there. Sojiro left with Tae, and Goro was alone with his thoughts. 

A great many things had to happen for them to end up like this. He betrayed Shido, and accepted every single consequence that came with it. Did Goro regret it? No. He had put in so much thought and had flip flopped on his decision to the point where regretting it was no longer an option. Akira lives, and the world is that much brighter for it. A part of him felt selfish, having stolen this one thing from the jaws of Shido’s machinations, but what he did was the right decision. It was the most just, and he didn’t regret it.

Goro wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting there when a noise came from the door. Turning in his borrowed desk chair, Goro was greeted by the sight of a curtain of red hair as it dipped behind the door frame and out of sight. “Futaba-chan?” Goro heard a tiny squeak coming from the frame, and then a head of red hair peered around the corner. Sure enough, Sakura Futaba slowly came into the room, her eyes on Akira. 

Within the short time that Goro had been apart of the Phantom Thieves, he’s known Futaba to be very close to Akira. She was always within his orbit when she was outside of her Persona or in the real world, and always looked to him first for approval. His quiet, non-judgemental nature had made him a primary pillar of support for the reclusive hacker. If Goro didn’t know any better, he’d say they were siblings by the way she hovers behind him like a shy little sister. There’s a light scrape as Futaba pulls over the only extra chair in the room and perches herself on top of it, hunched over her knees. Silence pervades the room as she stares at the drugged and unconscious Akira. 

Goro almost apologized. 

Now isn’t the time, and he isn’t sure if Futaba wants to hear that right now, but… what better time would there be? Now that Goro has officially taken a stand in the Phantom Thieves' favor, and now that he has a moment alone with the redhead… Though given how her hands were shaking, he suspected that it shouldn’t be the first thing they say to each other at present. So instead, Goro resolved to be patient. He was quiet, letting her process. Letting her gather her thoughts. Futaba had been a hermit up until very recently. She likely wasn’t used to speaking to someone about her feelings.

That’s okay. 

They have the time. 

Seconds drip into minutes which stretch into almost an hour until a quiet voice came from the oddly-sitting girl to his right. 

“He trusted you, you know.” 

“... Yes.” “Even though all we had were your phone calls, all saying he was going to die. Even after the blackmail. Even after the lies. He trusted you… and he was right to.” Goro glanced over at her, and she had her face trained on the sleeping raven. Decidedly not looking at him. Perhaps for the sake of her resolve. Goro turned back to Akira, and leaned forward on his own knees and clasps his hands together in front of him. He took one measured breath, and then two. To his immense relief, Futaba was also patient with him. 

“... They did not tell me she would die.”

As Goro suspected, Futaba locked up in the chair next to him, and she slowly turned her head to look at him. Now that the cork was pulled, Goro could not stop. 

“I won’t ask for your forgiveness. I don’t want it. I did kill her, and as much as one could argue I want to, I cannot bring her back to you. I just… feel as though you have the right to know from me as much of the truth as you can stomach.” 

Perhaps it would be his penance to her. To the first life he had ever taken. To the accident that ended up causing the avalanche of his crimes. To the daughter he orphaned so he could start his battle for revenge. Goro looked to Futaba, and saw in her eyes a steely resolve on her minutely fearful face. He saw a hint of appreciation. He saw the beginnings of understanding. Futaba nodded at him, and turned to look at Akira. Goro did the same, and for a second, he thought the raven was smiling. 

He told Futaba everything.

It took about an hour and a half, by the time it was over, to describe the situation that led to her mother’s untimely demise. When it was over, Futaba had hidden her face behind her curtain of hair and she was silent. Goro let her be, fidgeting with the clasp of his gloves and awaiting her judgement. After a moment of silence that stretched on for what felt like a century or three, Futaba simply asked him, in a paper thin, shuddering voice for a glass of water. He could tell she didn’t really want the water. She wanted privacy, so Goro nodded, and left Akira in her capable hands to fetch the water and take quite some time doing it. 

If he took the box of tissues on the bedside table and sat it on the bed in front of her without preamble, he wouldn’t admit to it. 

Sojiro’s house was easy enough to manage. At the bottom of the stairs was a door to the left that led out into the living room and the kitchenette, the door on the right with caution signs all over it must have been Futaba’s room, and the door at the end of the hall appeared to be a bathroom. A familiar scent played with his nose, and Goro followed it into the kitchen. His silent steps went entirely unnoticed by Sojiro, who was standing in the kitchen over a pot that was most definitely curry. He watched as Sojiro took off his glasses, pinched the bridge of his nose, and took in a most telling, stuffy breath through his nose. 

It was then that the realization had finally set into Goro’s mind that this was a _family_, and that family included Akira. They loved him, and they had been scared to death. 

Sojiro must have thought, when the news broke, that Akira had indeed killed himself. Akira was never named in the reports, and while he was sure Sojiro had suspected that Akira was the leader of the Phantom Thieves, he must not have been certain until that report. 

How would a father feel, comfirming their suspicions that their child was the leader of a group of criminals, right within the same breath as finding out they had committed suicide? Hearing the news god knows how many hands later from a _news report_. 

Goro felt like he was intruding. It wasn’t often he felt that way, and deigned to care about it. But watching Sojiro hunch to the side of the curry, stuffing down tears that threatened to surface as he processed the life of the son he only wished he could claim as his own…? Goro felt like he should leave. But he was on a mission. 

“Sakura-san.” Goro’s voice shocked Sojiro out of his mourning and he snuffled, put his glasses back on and cleared his throat. “Y-Yeah?” 

“Futaba-chan asked for water. I’m sorry to intrude.” He was, but also wasn’t. A strange combination of feelings. Sojiro nodded and allowed him to get a cup and fill it with ice water, and the entire time Sojiro watched him. It was a strange feeling, being watched. It felt like he was suddenly hyper-aware of his left shoulder as Sojiro stared at it, as if the stare were tangible and pressing into his skin under his many layers. When he turned back around, he noticed that Sojiro had two bowls of curry in his hands. One was significantly darker than the other. “I’m coming up with you. This one,” He raises the lighter bowl, “Is yours. Not a fan of spice, right? The kid mentioned it more than once. This is from a batch he made for you.” 

Akira… specifically made him curry…? He thought about their supplies for infiltrating Mementos, and the theromoses of curry that seemed to multiply. Goro always wondered when Akira ever had the time to make so much food, but they were _never_ out of it. 

He remembered when he started using two different kinds of thermoses. How one set had a red cap.

“Thank you,” was all Goro could manage in reply. 

Hours passed with no movement from the raven. Day turned into night. Futaba and Sojiro went to bed. Goro stayed up, with the lights on and a glass of water and a bottle of strong painkillers, courtesy of Tae, ready for whenever Akira woke. More than once Goro reached for his phone, only to realize he’d left it with Sae as evidence. He was left mostly with his thoughts at that time, and a selection of books Sojiro had offered him. 

It was perhaps about 3am, famously known as Fuck This O’Clock, when Akira finally opened his eyes. At first he seemed unaware of where he was, but after a brief moment of confusion, hazy grey eyes slid over to Goro and a warm smirk crossed his face. “Hey,” came the gravelly tone of a formerly drugged teenager who’d escaped death. 

“Hey,” came the unimpressed tone of a former teenage murderer. 

Akira sat up with a rough groan, sighing thankfully when Goro situated his pillows so they propped him up against the headboard. Goro uncapped the painkillers and, after a quick glance of the instructions Tae had scribbled on the label, doled out two and handed them to Akira with the water. Akira was silent, but grateful. Goro was silent, but thoughtful. He sat back in his chair and thought about how horribly similar this was to how he’d given Futaba her own space just hours ago. The silence stretched on for hours, until finally, when the cup of water was empty and they had nothing but each other’s company, Goro spoke. What came out of his mouth was the one thing he never had the right or desire to say to anyone, but in Goro’s mind Akira was not simply anyone. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Akira seemed to know the weight of the moment. Of course he did. He knew Goro better than Goro knew himself, sometimes. It was as disarming as it was attractive. As appreciated as it was infuriating. Goro took a deep breath, and steeled himself. He would either receive Akira’s scorn, or he would receive his forgiveness. Goro didn’t know which one he wanted most, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to accept any other outcome, or be able to proceed past this point, without one of those responses. As a surety to himself, that he deserved one or the other of those things. 

Akira was the only one who could judge him. He was the only one he _wanted_ to judge him. 

The raven gave him a tiny smile, and Goro left his fate in the most capable hands. He told him the truth about his situation, and what hand he was dealt. Goro frowned through his truth- he’s not used to saying it. The truth felt so flimsy in comparison to the grand lie he’d built, that to hear it come out of his own mouth sounded saccharine and lackluster. He told him how he’d slipped up and found himself quite smitten with Akira, and how he didn’t know how to handle it. How he buried it under his onerous task and hefty lies, sure that he was too far gone for any kind of salvation. 

But Akira never gave up on him. 

At first Goro found that insistence to be quite bothersome. He was a potential target, nothing more. Until very suddenly he wasn’t, and Goro remembered standing in that train station, crepe in hand, not knowing what to do with the feeling in his chest. It felt like a century ago, when really it was just a handful of months. 

Akira was blessedly quiet through his entire speech, all the way through the threat they were going to inevitably face. 

“You don’t understand- Shido… the power he has? Not even just politically. He has underground connections as well. He has access to Isshiki Wakaba’s research. I’ve been… _informed_ several times that any attempt on my part to infiltrate his Palace would only result in my destruction. He isn’t Madarame or Kamoshida. He’s much, much worse in his devices. He’s a very dangerous enemy to make, Akira. I won’t ask that of you. I _refuse_ to be used by him any longer. Whatever happens to me as a result, that’s fine. But I won’t ask you to involve yourself-” “Goro, stop.” It was the first thing Akira said in what had to have been an hour. It wasn’t forceful, but it was firm. Firm, but kind. Goro stopped and huffed, narrowed red eyes took in tired but kind grey. “Don’t… worry about that yet. We should tell the others- we don’t decide unilaterally. We’ll let them decide whether we go after Shido. But you aren’t going in there alone. No matter what happens. We’ll do what we can, and if they decide not to get involved, then _I_ will do all I can to help you. I promise.” 

Goro leveled him with a stare that was part exasperated and part relieved. The sigh that he let out was a tired one as he resigned himself to his fate at the hands of the others. “... Fine. But if Sakamoto makes a big deal out of it, I’ll smother him in his sleep.” 

“Ryuji isn’t going to make a big deal out of it- you’re just afraid of the fact you’re starting to warm up to him.” 

“.... I’ll smother _you_ in your sleep.” 

Akira snorts, “No, you won’t.” 

Exasperated and called out, Goro fussed like a ruffled crow and crossed his arms over his chest, “... Fine. Since you want to be an ass about it.” Akira chuckles, a breathy thing given the current state of his bruised rib cage, and Goro found himself feeling a little more… soft. 

He should be concerned. Goro shouldn’t be soft. He worked so hard to deny himself any kind of softness in reality. He doesn’t need it, he doesn’t want it, he doesn’t deserve it. 

But _fuck_, does Akira have his ways to make Goro so soft, so easily. 

“You give too much of yourself to other people.” 

Akira shrugged at him, “Probably. But… I like doing it. I remember when I wished someone would help me the way I help other people. I like giving the people I care about something to believe in. It makes me happy.” 

“.... I was supposed to kill you. Why do you give me that regard? Why did you go so far for me… and continue to do so, all while knowing what I’ve done? What I fully intended to do until _yesterday_?” 

Akira’s eyes were fathomless. They’re the color of star stuff, without resentment, without judgement, without _reason_. It was always hard for Goro to tell what Akira sees when he looked at him like this. It was like Akira could see through him as if he were wet rice paper, and Goro often caught himself wondering what could have possibly happened in Akira’s genetics that gave him such piercing, gorgeous eyes. Then, as nonchalant as can be, the bruised and battered raven shrugged. 

“Maybe I felt my trust was something I never wanted you to be without.” 

Goro stared at Akira in return as if he’d grown three additional heads. Rationally, he _knew_ Akira trusted him. Futaba told him about it, Akira showed him that he did on multiple occasions, and Goro could just tell. But to hear the utterance from the mouth of the man himself was a rather different thing. It took a moment of stunned silence for Goro to retain his bearings, and when he had, his cheeks were blazing and all he could do was frown. 

“You… are _insufferable_.” 

Goro leaned across the bed and kissed him, as warm as it was gentle to avoid hurting the sore raven anymore than he already was, and somehow it felt like an affirmation. The proof that this was _something_. That this something was _worthwhile_ to both of them, and that Goro had accepted it, the way that Akira had done. That Goro was willing to follow where Akira led, though solely for Akira himself and the drive of his new resolve to get back at Shido without being taken down with him. Whatever was about to happen in the following days, Goro would be there with Akira, and Akira would be there for him. 

It felt like hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With this chapter FINALLY done and out of the way, there's a teeny tiny gap I need to fill and we're smooth sailing. The rest of this story has already been written, so as soon as I write one single scene, we're back to daily updates. 
> 
> Thank you all so SO much with your patience regarding this story! I can't thank you all enough for how kind you've all been. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter, and look forward to more of this story! :D :D :D


	7. The Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whooooo buudddyyy..... 
> 
> IT'S FINALLY HERE! Please be gentle- I worked so hard on this. I tried very hard to keep everyone as in character as I could, and I hope that quality has shone here in this chapter as well. More for Letters and TSP is coming- this isn't over yet! But I'm also writing more fics for the Code Geass universe, so please expect to see fics for that fandom here too, very soon!

Chapter Seven: The Talk

The moment that Akira could stand fully, without stumbling, falling backwards, or hissing from pain, he knew he was in trouble. Goro watched this realization develop on his face in slow motion. 

Goro could see that Akira was aware of what was in store for him just by the look on his face. Akira slid to the edge of the bed, and at first Goro helped him to stand like the few times he had to help him up to go to the bathroom without falling, and when he wanted to sit up to eat the curry Sojiro brought him without threat to the sheets. Sojiro told him he didn’t care, but as was expected of Akira, he silently elected not to listen. 

This time, though, Goro helped him up and he didn’t hiss. He winced, for sure, because it definitely hurt, but thankfully the painkillers Tae had given him were kicking in full swing, and once he was up, he was able to stand on his own with no real issue. 

Which was why Goro was looking at him like that. 

“Wh… Why are you sizing me up like that?” 

“... Mementos,” Was all Goro said, and he decided not to elaborate. Akira blinked at him, still not fully connecting the dots. Goro could tell Akira’s mind was stalling like a frozen loading screen and he huffed a sigh, pulling out his phone. “Take a deep breath.” “Goro, wait-!” Goro took them to Mementos from right inside the Sakura household. Luckily, no one was home, including Futaba, who had decided to go to the cafe with Sojiro and wait for the others there. Going into Mementos was always a strange experience. One felt as if the world pulled out like a rug from under their feet and their stomach turned with the motion. It was a very disorienting feeling for sure, and Akira was so unsteady on his legs that once they arrived in Mementos, he teetered and started to fall to the side. His arms flew out to try to restore his balance, but with a tinkle of something metallic, a hand wrapped around his bicep and one came to rest on his hip, steadying him. 

When Akira opened his eyes, the first thing that caught his eye was the hard, dark metal of a black beak. 

“Careful,” Goro murmured under his breath as he righted Akira’s balance. Though even once Akira was stable, Goro didn’t let him go. He met Goro’s eyes behind the red veil of his mask, and Goro sighed, “Oh… Right.” Lifting his hand from Akira’s hip, Goro moved his mask up, which turned on the hinges collapsed around his ears to balance on the top of his head. “You haven’t seen my _true_ Metaverse attire, have you?” 

Goro watched with bated breath as Akira stepped back a little to look at Goro’s whole outfit. “It’s very… _belty_.” Goro was decidedly displeased with that very obvious observation, but he seems to know why Akira’s electing to joke about it. This was, after all, a killer’s mask. The multiple belts tied his black and purple jumpsuit to him in such a way it wouldn’t shift or ride up, which was nice, but otherwise they seemed to be quite unnecessary. “I have no reason to hide this mask anymore, and I don’t want to.” Goro explained with finality, “I’m done being someone else’s puppet, I’m done with the lies and the excuses. This is what I want.” 

That Goro was finally taking something he wanted for himself made a dopey smile grow slowly on Akira’s face. Goro knew why- of course he did. Akira probably never thought he’d ever see the day, honestly, when Goro would decide to crumple up the plastic mask he wore and trample it beneath his boot. It felt like success, to the detective. It felt like progress. Tearing off yet another mask to _finally_ find a modicum of freedom.

Akechi Goro had decided to save himself. 

“I’m proud of you.” Goro sharply inhaled through his nose at those whisper quiet words worth their weight in something more valuable in gold. It felt as though the whole sentence were struck out of pure platinum and gifted to him in the silent space between them. What did one say to that? What did… How does he respond? This was the second time in just as many days someone has said they’re proud of him. It was a very strange feeling. 

“... Thank you,” he replied, and somehow Akira’s smile seemed much warmer. 

Goro used Robin Hood’s singular healing ability to cure Akira’s injuries, but what he couldn’t heal were the bruises already set into Akira’s skin. Healing spells were more efficient when applied directly after an injury for this reason, and it made Goro click his tongue. He reached up, claws and all, and adjusted the mask on Akira’s face so he could further cup his bruised cheek to examine it. “Does it hurt?” 

Akira shook his head, “No, not really. It feels tender, but not sore.” Goro nodded and met Akira’s eyes. Like time is wont to do when Goro was faced with those slate depths, all slowed and became distant. All that consumed his vision was Akira and all that _was_, was Akira. Red gloves boldly came to rest on his hips and Goro allowed it, a devilish grin sliding up his cheeks. 

“Other than that, how do you feel?” Goro’s question was valid, and came from a place of honest concern, even if a teasing air seemed to pervade the shrinking space between their faces. “Good,” Akira hummed so easily, “Thanks.” The smile on Akira’s face seemed to be mischievous and particularly devilish and Goro had _no idea why_. But, with Akira’s lips so close to his, he found he really didn’t care. Their Cheshire cat grins had to come to an end for a kiss, but that was fine by Goro. One of these days, they were going to have to talk about what this all meant. The kisses and the closeness. But in a way, they had already said all they needed to say. They understood what was happening between them. Goro had not forgotten Akira’s admission on the train platform, and perhaps this was him responding in kind. 

Goro’s actions do speak far more truthfully than his words.

When they had arrived back in the real world, the Sakura household was still empty. Luckily for them. “I can’t call the others to a meeting while looking like this. They’ll all worry,” Akira pouted as he dropped his weight onto the mattress with a soft thud. Goro leaned over him with a deadpan expression on his face, “Unless you know how to put on makeup, you’re stuck with it. Be thankful it doesn’t hurt anymore.” Akira’s pout only grew, and his cheeks puffed in indignation. “Can’t you help me? You wear concealer all the time!” 

Goro was unamused. 

“The TV station puts that on- I don’t know how to do it for myself.” They routinely pinned him down to that dumb fucking chair in the dressing room and covered the bags under his eyes so he looked perky and happy for the camera. Goro _detested_ the TV interviews. Half of what he said was buried by a script meant to pander to Shido’s ideals, and the other half was driven by what the public _wanted_ to hear. All of it was bullshit. Words no more solid than the tissue paper children rip into with abandon at Christmas. All pretty words, and no substance. If he had officially betrayed Shido, didn’t that mean he could just… skip TV interviews as well? “Besides you can’t just _slather_ the concealer on your face. You need a specific shade and- what are you doing?” Goro quickly leaned away as Akira popped up into a sitting position on the bed and reached for his phone. He tapped away at the screen and didn’t answer him, which made Goro narrow his eyes. “Akira?” No response. The boy took a _selfie_ instead. 

“Kurusu.” 

“Hang on, I’m getting help.” Oh, okay, an actual answer. Goro sighed heavily and sat down next to Akira, peering over the raven’s shoulder. He read the name on the text chain and he honestly had _no idea_ who Akira was conversing with whatsoever. 

“Who’s Lala-chan?” 

Nearly an hour later found Lala-chan at the door to Sojiro’s home. Goro let her inside and offered her a pair of house slippers. Lala’s stare was _disarming._ She looked at Goro and seemed to see _straight_ through him. She smelled faintly of cigarettes and alcohol, and though Akira _had_ helpfully informed him that Lala ran a bar in the Red-Light District, he wasn’t expecting that she’d been at work so early in the day that she already smelled of it. Or perhaps she was a smoker herself, and that’s why it clung to her yukata. 

“Oh-ra~!” She hummed, loud and boisterous, “_You_ must be the boy Akira-kun has told me so much about!” Which was _not_ the greeting he had been expecting after so intense a stare. “I wasn’t aware Akira spoke of me.” That was certainly news to him, and as Lala-chan slipped out of her geta and into the proffered house slippers, she could only grin at Goro. The larger woman breezed passed him with an air of authority, and Goro was honestly a little intimidated. She seemed to command respect in her gait and in her gaze, as if she’d seen and heard many disrespectful things and had grown tired of it. 

Far be it from Goro to brashly judge someone based on their appearance and their tone of voice, but Goro was an incredibly perceptive person. It came with his role as a detective. He could guess why Lala had been exposed to such disrespect, and her reasoning for being so exhausted by it she had quickly learned to take no shit from those who would judge her. Goro respected that a great deal. 

Goro respected her. 

“He has, once or twice. He seems to like you very much.” Lala leaned down into his face and studied him carefully. Goro stood still and met her gaze until Lala seemed satisfied with whatever it was she searched for and she leaned back to stand straight. “Hmph. You take good care of him.” Was this seriously a shovel talk? He didn’t need a _shovel talk_! But that look on Lala’s face left no room for argument and all he could say in reply was, “I will.” 

Inwardly cursing himself for bending so easily to her obvious and successful attempt at intimidation, Goro led Lala-chan up the stairs to the room Akira was occupying. She breezed passed him once again through the door and perhaps his feathers are a _little_ ruffled. Hey..! “I’m sorry I’m late,” Lala-chan all but cooed, immediately fussing over Akira like a mother over her injured son. She clicked her tongue at him and rifled through her small handbag, “I had to find your shade of foundation. With the flash on your camera it was really difficult, so I brought a couple different ones with me. Did you wash your face?” Akira, chuckling, shook his head. She sighed and shoved a white bottle into his hands, “Bathroom! No makeup until your face is washed!” 

Goro took a seat in the spare chair he’d moved back over to the desk and watched the process. It was nice to see that Akira had a support group like this, though it did make him a little jealous. Akira had a score of people who stood by him. Goro had no one- except Akira himself and perhaps Sae. No… Not perhaps. Even though she didn’t know everything until very recently, Sae was a source of normality. They’d work, they’d go out to eat and talk about work, and at first that was all there was. Eventually, they grew close enough that she actually invited him over for dinner twice. He knew it was just because the apartment was closer than the nearest sushi place, and it would stop him from complaining about conveyor belt sushi, but it still happened. It was easy to just… _be_ a detective, working with this prosecutor. Easy to forget that his phone was blowing up with encrypted texts and missed phone calls bearing Shido’s name. It was a glimpse at a normal life, one that didn’t have that huge secret looming in the background. Despite everything, criminal justice _was_ his passion. Odd, how that turned out in the end.

Goro’s attention was brought back to the moment in front of him, with Lala watching him intently as he had his moment. She seemed to know what’s going through his head, somehow, but thankfully she didn’t comment on it. Akira’s whole mood seemed to brighten when Lala walked through the door, and part of him _wanted_ to be bitter- why didn’t Akira act like that with him? But he _did_, in his own way. His rational brain butted in to remind him that Akira expressed his affections differently for other people. Just because he was more expressive with Lala didn’t mean Akira loved him less. Goro and Akira’s situation was… tenuous, too. They’d only just come to terms with their feelings for each other, and then the interrogation room happened without them really sitting down to talk about it… who’s to say Goro won’t eventually get to have something like this in the future? Was that so bad for him to wish for? A future, with Akira?

Perhaps. He didn’t know what kind of future he was going to have, after all. But maybe now he was beginning to think he _deserved_ a future.

Akira returned with a freshly washed and shiny face, handing Lala back her bottle of what appeared to be facial scrub. He was plunked back down onto the bed and Lala began her work, moisturizing and priming Akira’s face, pinning his hair back with clips. The boy looked _ridiculous_, not that Goro looked any different when the makeup artists did it to him at the TV station. The raven sat still, for the most part, turning to send Goro funny faces or a warm smile. 

Goro had a lot to learn about his own emotions and expressing them. He had just started feeling emotions he didn’t even think he _deserved_ to feel. But who was going to tell him what he deserved, other than himself? Why couldn’t he just _live_? To allow himself to have what he wanted, no compromises? To feel what bubbles up in his heart, and learn to give those feelings names instead of cram them back down into their hole?

That look on Akira’s face made it seem so easy. So close within his reach. 

Lala was the first to break the silence beyond telling Akira’s goofy ass to sit still. “So, are you going to tell me what happened?” Both boys fell silent- neither of them wanted to admit to Lala what had really happened to Akira. It would all but tell her the truth behind the Phantom Thieves. The leader’s “suicide” had been all over the news. After a tense moment of silence, which seemed to only confirm Lala’s suspicions, she sighed, running her soft, angled brush over a particularly grassy bruise on Akira’s cheekbone, “.... Well, then, will you at least tell me how the other guy looks?” Goro wasn’t fooled. He had a full view of her glance, the look on her face. 

She knew. 

Of course she would know- they’d be foolish to think she didn’t. Just like Sojiro, who was undoubtedly aware of Akira _and_ Futaba’s involvement. There were adults that knew, and actually cared. They were _concerned_. That was a new concept to Goro- that an adult would actually care about the wellbeing of a child that wasn’t even theirs, and even _then_, Goro’s had mixed experiences with that. He only vaguely remembered his own mother’s love, after all. What was he to do with an example of some degree of motherly affection happening right in front of his face?

Akira gratefully took the out with a nervous chuckle, but only a _little_ bit. “Goro scared them off,” he gave a shaky smile, but then grew somber. “It doesn’t hurt anymore… if that helps, at all.” Lala finished the cover-up with a spritz of setting spray and she was quiet for a while as she concentrated on not getting any of the solution into Akira’s eyes. She leaned back to examine her work, tilting Akira’s face into the light to check it at different angles. 

“It doesn’t,” She responded honestly, “But it’ll have to do.” 

Lala left after a healthy hug for Akira and a look of intent to Goro very shortly once she’d finished hiding Akira’s bruising. Goro closed the door behind her and looked over at Akira, who had followed him down the stairs to get something to eat. “Well?” Akira asked, leaning against the door frame of the kitchen, “Are you ready?” The expression Goro gave Akira was once again deadpan and flat, “Do I have a choice in the matter? It’s better sooner rather than later, isn’t it?” 

Akira shrugged and pulled Goro into the kitchen, “I suppose so.” Akira put two saucepans of leftover curry onto the stove to warm up again, the second one containing curry more palatable for Goro. While Akira tapped away on his phone, no doubt setting up a meeting with the others, he stared at the second pan of curry. It was lighter in color, definitely meant for him, and he’s taken back to that realization he had just the previous day with Sojiro in the kitchen. Akira put away his phone in his back pocket and he stirred the curries, “It’ll be about an hour before even the first one starts showing up, so we’ve got plenty of time- huh?” 

Goro wrapped his arms around Akira from behind. 

His cheeks were flaming red, and he hid his face in Akira’s shoulder, but it was still a tender gesture. “Hey~” Akira had a smile on his face and he leaned back into Goro’s arms. “You never told us what was in the red thermoses,” Goro began, having lifted his head up enough to speak, “But it was curry, wasn’t it? For me, because I can’t eat spicy food.” Akira fell quiet for a moment, measuring the weight of his words. 

“I wanted you to feel welcome,” Akira responded quietly, stirring the curries in their respective saucepans, “I kept telling myself that was all it was, at first. But I guess I was also hoping that… you would see the gesture, and it would be one of those little things that helped you decide to stay.” Goro froze, his arms around Akira and his face buried against his shoulder concealing his look of surprise. Akira wanted him to stay _so badly_, and even this small reminder of it absolutely floored Goro. He was not used to being cared for so much, and even less so _loved_ as much as Akira clearly loved him. It made something new, and something _strange_ bubble up in his chest: a jittery warmth that spread up to his shoulders and down his arms as his heart pumped the excited blood through his veins in a way that Goro only barely recognized. 

Joy. 

He was feeling joy.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Goro began, melting back against Akira’s shoulder with a sigh, “I did notice, and it _did_ help, just a little bit, with my decision to stay.” After all, the gesture helped Goro realize that he already _had_ what he’d always wanted: someone who genuinely wanted his presence, and wouldn’t throw him away like the rest of the world had in his youth. He could hear Akira’s smile- a warm and tender thing that came through his voice and he seemed to stand a little straighter with his pride. 

“Then it was worth it.” 

They had eaten their lunch in relative silence, making smalltalk to calm their nerves even as they sat at the table with Akira’s left knee pressed to Goro’s right. This quiet time together did very little to calm Goro as they set out towards the cafe. Each step felt like an impending doom, even if Goro knew that this moment _had _to happen. He refused to let it continue- they had to work together, at least. No one ever said they had to like each other to cooperate… and yet. The air was tense in the cafe even _before_ Akira opened the door. Goro could feel it seeping like a miasma under the door and through the keyhole in a thick billow that choked him from the doormat. 

Oh, this was going to be a _great_ discussion. He could feel it in his gut. 

As soon as Akira opened the door, and Goro walked in, three things happened in slow motion. Ryuji looked up and saw Goro, dropped his manga, and nearly broke out into a run towards Goro, “You’ve got some _nerve_ comin’ here!” Ann gripped his hood and snapped him back into his chair, huffing about how he was too impulsive. It was then that Goro remembered that the rest of the team had no idea what events had occurred within the last few days. Futaba must not have mentioned it, and Akira’s text must not have mentioned he was coming, because they all seemed to be unaware that he was with Akira. It was a shocking reality check, really, to walk into a room of people who thought he’d attempted to shoot their friend and leader.

He’d entirely forgotten about all of that, in light of the last few day’s emotional expenses. 

Akira came in quickly after hearing Ryuji’s shout and he stepped in front of Goro. How sweet. “Whoa, guys, it’s fine. He didn’t go through with it.” 

Reasonably, Futaba and Sojiro were the only ones not surprised. Goro had also seemingly forgotten how _loud_ the Phantom Thieves could be, because a ruckus broke out unlike any other. 

“WHAT!?” 

“HAAAAAAAA!?” 

“I can’t tell if this is good news or not.”

“Most excellent! That is a great relief to hear!” 

Once everyone quieted down, Makoto spoke up from her seat in a booth, “When the news broke about the suicide, we had assumed the plan had worked…” Plan? That was news to him. Maybe something _hadn’t_ worked, because everything seemed to go normally… he passed Sae in the hallway and she barely stopped for a chat, and that was all that had separated him from the elevator down there, and Akira. There was something in the air- the source of the miasma that was clouding the cafe with its noxious, anxiety-inducing aura. It had to be coming from somewhere, and Goro looked around until he saw it. The glare. A look of such pure, and utter detest hidden behind a calm face. 

Okumura Haru was staring at him as if the very look in her eye was made of poison. 

He and Futaba had already come to their agreement. He had spoken his piece, and she had hers. They came to an understanding, and Goro accepted fully that he neither deserved, respected, or even _wanted_ Futaba’s forgiveness. He wouldn’t dare ask for forgiveness from either one he’s affected by his actions, but like Futaba, the time had come for them to say their pieces and continue at least temporarily as a team. Otherwise, they _will_ fail. There is no doubt about it. But they absolutely cannot continue in any capacity if they don’t have this discussion.

Makoto slid from the booth to stand between Ryuji and Ann and Futaba turned around in her stool to watch as Goro approached the booth that Makoto had shared with Haru, and slid into Makoto’s abandoned seat. The air seemed to grow thicker as she stared at him with what seemed to be a flat, deadened expression. Goro knows what he did, and he accepts what he did. Taking away a child’s parent is a cruel thing, but he’s not sorry. This wasn’t like Wakaba, where he wasn’t told what would happen to Okumura once he pulled that trigger. Goro knew exactly what he was doing, and he had wilfully committed a murder. Certainly not the first, but perhaps, with luck, the last. 

Since it didn’t seem that Haru had any plans to speak, Goro once again decided to go first. He’s sick of sitting around waiting for people to judge him. He did enough of that to himself. So he crossed one leg over another and both arms over his chest to steel himself, and he spoke. 

“I won’t ask you for forgiveness,” He said plainly, “I feel as though if I would, you wouldn’t give it to me, and I’m sick of people giving me shit I don’t want.” Goro had no reason to be as vulnerable with her as he had been with Futaba. His crime against Futaba was a very different matter, and Haru is still so visibly angry with him he won’t do her the disrespect of sugaring his words to her palette. 

Obviously displeased with how he started, Haru narrows her eyes harshly, but his words had the desired effect, because Haru finally found her words, “To be perfectly honest, I do not want you here.” 

Right out of the gate with brutal honesty? Good.

“You… You killed my father- you took my _last remaining parent_ away from me,” Haru gripped her cup just tightly enough that the ceramic creaked, but held fast and didn’t crack, “How am I supposed to feel, sitting across this table from you? I joined the Phantom Thieves so I could _get_ my father back. So I could change his heart, and we could be a family again. And you took that away from me- right as he was confessing. Right as I started to hope it had _worked_!” Goro’s collected expression betrayed the feelings in his chest. He knew what he’d done, and that in doing so he would orphan Haru. Goro did not feel remorse. 

Goro did not have time for remorse. 

What he did have time for was a little bit of sympathy.

“I want you to tell me, and I will not let you leave until you do.” Haru looked up at him from her cup with a barely restrained glare, “Tell me _why_ my father had to die. You _owe me_ that much.” 

Yes, he did. He did owe her some kind of explanation, and fortunately Goro did have an explanation for her. Though… she was not ready to hear it, Goro could see in her eyes this cobbled together thing huddling behind the anger and resentment for warmth. This tattered glimmer of a _gentle_ something, still clinging to whatever threads of Haru’s heart Goro’s actions hadn’t severed.

Haru was trying to understand Goro’s side of the story. She was trying to keep that kindness in her heart of giving him the benefit of the doubt, even if Goro didn’t want or deserve it. 

How… interesting. 

“Your father was one of the people that _my_ father, Shido Masayoshi, brought into his inner circle.” Goro would not lie to Haru. An explanation was owed to her, and now that they had purchased time at the cost of the bruises on Akira’s face, Goro would spend it in honesty. “My father is currently running to be Prime Minister, I’m sure you’ve seen his campaign ads on TV.” Haru nodded slowly, still trying to figure out where exactly Goro was going with this. “He has bought, lied, stolen, betrayed, bartered, and murdered for every vote he’s about to receive in the coming election. When he brought your father into the fold, he did it for the money. Okumura donated quite a considerable sum of money that was already filthy, but not in the way you would immediately suspect.” 

Haru was not prepared to hear this. Goro knew that. But… Goro also knew that she had the strength to take it. 

“If you took one good look around his palace, then honestly my words are just going to be reiterating what you should have realized for yourself. But if you need me to tell you, then fine. Okumura didn’t need to embezzle his money. His money already _made_ money. But what he did to get it? Okumura cut finances wherever he could. He started using heavily processed foods instead of quality ingredients without telling the public. If I were you, I wouldn’t eat at Big Bang Burger anymore.” 

Akira turned a little green. Were this any better time, Goro would have laughed at him fondly. He knew all about those Big Bang Burger challenges the raven had invested his time into for a stupid keychain. 

“He cut healthcare to his workers, increased their hours. People were passing out at work from the exhaustion and subsequently fired after working ten hours, eleven hours, seven days a week. People _died_ from the overwork. Then he cut the funding to the machinery and equipment, stopped accounting for the depreciation of the machines. They were cheaply fashioned, and never lasted long. They would malfunction, electrocute workers- more people _died_. Okumura paid no reparations to their families and any wrongful death suit was buried by litigation- whole families went into debt or went bankrupt just trying to find out what happened to their relatives. Where is their justice?” Haru winced at Goro’s harsh words, but Goro won’t stop there. He was not yet finished and however cruel, these were words that Haru needed to hear. 

“Even so… I would be lying if I said I did it for them. Though it was what I told myself at the time- that he _deserved_ it. That he was no better than my own father, no different from myself. The fact of the matter is that your father was _far_ from redemption. I’m not so sure a simple change of heart would have given you your father back the way he was, and that’s just an unfortunate fact of life. People evolve outside of what we’re capable of encouraging them to be. You can remove the distortion, but then what would have happened? What would have happened to a man with a bank account full of dirty money, bought and paid for by the blood of his own workers? An impartial third party of inspectors would have been brought in, he would have been found guilty of so many things you would go cross-eyed reading the list. You would have gone bankrupt and not least of all…” 

By now, the anger had mostly faded from Haru’s eyes. What was left behind in its wake seemed to be something pensive, if not a little shamed, given that she knew about her father’s crimes now that they had explored his Palace. Perhaps it was time to tell her the rest- the remaining truth about why _exactly_ her father had to die. 

“Your father made the grave mistake of joining mine, and then decided on his own he wanted a political platform in competition to Shido’s. Your father died… because Shido had decided he had outlived his usefulness, and that would have happened whether you had changed his heart or not. If Shido didn’t make me do it, he would have made someone else do it.” 

Silence fell over the group in a blanket so thick it could have shielded them from the winter. The idea that Goro’s father, their real enemy, was that nefarious had never fully registered into their minds until now. It was in this moment, with Goro sitting here and telling it to their faces, that they all realized the kind of man they were up against in this fight. 

“I don’t think I will ever live to forgive you.” Haru looked only a _little_ defeated, her anger mollified by Goro’s words, but no less valid. Still present, but no longer at the forefront. Goro nodded simply, “I’m not expecting it. I will never ask for it. What I _will_ ask for is that we agree to work together. We won’t make it if we’re divided by anger.” 

“I have one more question for you, before I _consider_ that request.” 

That was very fair, and frankly Goro was surprised that she would even consider it at all. It spoke towards that kindness in her, and Goro was beginning to wonder if Haru wasn’t worthy of at least his respect. It’s an admirable trait indeed. 

“Why are you working with Shido?” 

It seemed impossible for the room’s miasma to drape even heavier around their shoulders, and yet it did. Pushing down its onerous weight onto Goro’s shoulders as the ball landed soundly in his court. Wasn’t that the question of the hour? Everyone else seemed to lean in, except for Futaba, who suddenly decided to speak up for the first time since Goro had arrived, and she was _angry_. 

“That’s something _I_ would like to know, too.” Didn’t he already explain this to her? While they waited for Akira to wake up, didn’t they go over this? But ast Goro looked over at her, he could see a glimmer in her eyes. Something behind the anger- something that told Goro the truth: It was all for show. It was her way of enforcing that Goro had better be honest to Haru, as he had been to her. Something about that almost warmed something in Goro to see, because it felt like she was encouraging him to have the strength to tell her the truth… _or else._ He didn’t need the push, but Goro respected her reasoning. Haru did… deserve a fair and honest answer.

“At first, it was my escape. I was in foster care for a while, and I thought that I could make myself useful to my rich and powerful father to get out of that hellhole so I could _do something_ with myself. I wanted to take him down for what he did to my mother, and if I could hit him in his wallet, that would be a bonus. Instead, what ended up happening was that he wrapped me up in his plans. He saw me as nothing more than a tool from the onset, and at the time I was too young and naïve to believe it would be so simple to challenge him. They never told me anyone would die, but as the deaths started mounting, so too did his evidence. It wasn’t until I confronted him myself that he told me the bottom line: If I do not obey, I’m ratted out to the police, and he would never face charges because he’s too powerful. So I had to be careful.” Goro explained all of this carefully, because the specifics and the details were frankly none of Haru’s business, but he did owe her some kind of answer. This was part of his penance. This was part of his growth. 

This was Akechi Goro drawing his line in the sand between Shido and the single glimmer of joy and hope he had forged for himself with dirty, bloody, calloused hands. 

None shall pass over that line and test his ever-thinning patience. 

Akira looked almost proud of him as he gave Haru her answer, and it along with the rest of Goro’s words had been honest answers. It’s a warm kind of glimmer in his eye that told Goro a multitude of things. Akira looked relieved, as Haru nodded and accepted his answer. He had the face of a man who looked upon the fruit of his efforts and saw that it was worth it. That the blood, the sweat, the bruises, and the tears had all finally reached their zenith and from here on out, they would reap nothing but the benefits together. Akira looked at Goro with love, and for once, Goro felt as though he deserved it. 

“So… you were nothing but a tool of your father’s devices, same as me. I had even reached a point where I was willing to let him… sell me off. He said it was my only use and benefit to him, and even though I smothered that tiny voice in my heart that grew angry and resentful, I _believed_ him.” Haru’s words were shamed as she looked down at her barely-touched coffee, too sick to her stomach with anxiety and anger to drink it. She fell quiet, and it spanned several centuries. The silence rang out and no one dared say a word, no one moved. Not even Ryuji, who habitually refused to sit still for anything. Eventually, Haru looked up at Goro, determination in her eyes and a square set in her shoulders. 

“I think we owe it to ourselves and each other to prove them wrong, don’t we?”

That was the confirmation they all needed. The miasma fled out the cafe in a great billow from between the cracks beneath the doors and the windows, the tension was cut, and everyone in the room visibly relaxed. “Whoo,” Ryuji sighed animatedly, running his fingers through his short, blond hair. “Honestly, I was waiting for the moment when Haru would reach across the table and smack you right across the face,” Ann sighed with a nervous chuckle, “I’m glad it didn’t come to that.” Goro was… indifferent. If Haru had hit him, he would have deserved it, but he would have likely sneered and made an awful comment or three in return, too. This outcome is far better, however, and Goro was satisfied. 

“I still may never forgive you, but… I am willing to work with you.” Haru slid out from her booth seat, and she delicately placed her now frigid coffee on the bar counter. “That’s perfectly fine with me,” Goro replied, sliding out as well to stand next to Akira. “Like I said, I’m not looking for forgiveness, and I will offer no apologies. You wouldn’t accept it, and I think it would leave a sour taste in my mouth, too.” Goro isn’t exactly _sorry_ he had left the world bereft of a complete and utter scumbag like Okumura Kunikazu. Haru paused for a moment at Goro’s boldness, but she slowly nodded, “No, I wouldn’t accept it. I don’t want your apologies. I want your _help_. You would be a very powerful ally to have, despite everything. If you wish to become on even _relatively civil_ speaking terms with me, let’s start there.” That was a completely fair assumption, and it was true- he was stronger than them, but they had the benefit of numbers. Goro appreciated and perhaps even respected her cold, calculating take on his presence here. It was for the need of the mission, and their end goal of destroying Shido so that no more had to suffer the way they had. 

A strong banner to stand behind, in his opinion. 

“Very well,” Goro nodded, and Akira adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. A more serious air of camaraderie prevailed after the dismissal of their hostilities and settled over their shoulders as their leader seemed to stand a little taller next to Goro. It was time, now that the elephant had been ushered out of the room, for them to discuss their plans. Their plans for Shido, and what appeared to be their last act as the Phantom Thieves. The ultimate heist, and the final showdown between them, and the man behind a great deal of their misery.

“Let’s begin, shall we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! I hope you're all staying safe out there! 
> 
> Until next time~


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